


and if I live, I want to live for you

by LordReborn



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Episode IX, F/M, Fix-It, HEA because they deserve it, Post TROS, Post-Canon, Time Travel Fix-It, Warning: mentions of self-harm in the prologue, lots of time travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-02-22 21:23:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 89,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23000641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordReborn/pseuds/LordReborn
Summary: Months since Exegol, the sudden stir of their bond brings with it a staggering amount of hope and, after a disheartening amount of research, Rey stumbles upon a possible way to bring Ben back.On the other side of time and space, Ben wakes up to a world he, by all means, shouldn't be alive in anymore.Both are resolved to find a way back to each other.Now if only the Force will stop flinging them around...
Relationships: Leia Organa/Han Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 88
Kudos: 228





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a lot of fun working on this story! The WBW theory is maybe the most irresistible one out there so I knew I had to try my out hand at it  
> Chapter count might change if I decide that I want cliffhangers  
> Major thanks to freestyle_tears for her help!

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

Fifteen tally marks on the wall next to her bunkbed, scratched with the blunt side of a vibroblade someone gifted her three days after the war ended. She doesn’t even remember the person’s face, but she thinks that it was maybe Poe. It’s inconsequential now anyways and he’s been away for over a week, leading the victorious Resistance in battles to wipe out the last vestiges of the First and Final Orders.

Then there are two tally marks, painted in blood because she took a plunge last evening after a particular bad wave of pain and painful memories searing through her brain. It’s easy to say that having a vibroblade on her person was not a good idea, even a blunt one such as this one. It’s lucky that she has the room to herself. It’s unlucky that her dreams proved to be far worse than staying up and staring at the dark ceiling. She quickly took another crack with that vibroblade after that particular bout of bloody nightmares, because she has to keep up the trend.

The pattern repeats itself more often than not, but it’s harder to distinguish the bloody marks in the dark and she can lie to herself and say that less time has passed than it did in reality. With each day that she can’t see to count, it is a day closer to the past and a time when he was alive.

But tally marks are hard to keep when your home is unsteady and instead of moving a whole wall, she starts keeping tallies wherever she can. Sometimes it’s on her ankle, but she quickly tires of the added pain on top of the severing pain that haunts her person like a shadow every moment of her life.

Nowadays, she’s turned to scratching her leather armguard to keep track and she found that she likes it that way.

Whatever else you can say about her, Rey is an expert at keeping track of passing days, waiting for no one and nothing.

* * *

**CORUSCANT**

It is an instinct… a feeling.

And for Rey, a powerful headache that just cannot seem to disappear.

She spits murky water on the ground, after a failed experiment of trying to drink it. It tastes awful and it looks awful, but she is too thirsty to care. Apparently not thirsty enough to want to die drinking it though.

The years off Jakku have made her weak, her body not so much immune anymore to the passing of the elements and not even the Rebellion could stop this slow progression to a civilized person in Rey. Which she now hates with a passion. Not only because she does not have the slightest idea what a good, civilized person would do in her situation.

As it is, she resolves to continue onwards, through the grimy streets of Coruscant, turning shadowy corners and slipping between lower levels of skyscrapers and deeper into the underbelly of the largest metropolis in the galaxy.

Only following an instinct. Or what she believes is an instinct.

Rey can only bring it into question when she’s too tired to walk anymore, but even with great effort, her mind cannot seem to grasp the _how_ or the _when_. She can only understand the _need_ and follow it because what else is she supposed to do? Lay down and die, buried in the sand of that godawful planet two of the Skywalkers have called home?

_She cannot honestly deny that it’s been a nice thought flitting about her petrified mind in the last few months._

Rey feels the irony all the way into her bones, though the context in which she ended up there is still up for debate inside the privacy of her own mind. Although, something inside of her rebelled at the idea of finding a new, beautiful planet filled with life and lush greenery to spend her lonely days on.

She cannot deny it anymore.

Something was wrong from the very beginning, Rey thinks absently as she sidesteps a hovercart carrying a mountain of crates with only a droid to maneuver it. Since they told her that her parents – the _nobodies_ – sold her to protect her from the evil grandfather that had tormented a galaxy full of innocent souls.

_In retrospect, she’d rather have stayed a literal nobody and let it rhyme. Ben had been the one with the tragic royalty backstory while Rey never wanted to touch something like that with a ten feet pole. Or maybe she did, knowing how ardent she was to know who her parents were. Karma gives and takes and so does the Force, because they are one and the same._

She does not remember when she started to believe it – sometime between Kylo Ren rasping it through that godawful mask and the shriveled face of Palpatine proudly declaring it to his millions of followers. Her soul had promptly curled up into a ball and wept, but Rey stayed strong on the surface and took the blunt of the attacks thrown her way like the good girl and rebel that she is.

Now she can honestly say that she didn’t know what she was fighting for anymore besides peace. Peace of mind, peace for the galaxy - at some point they became one and the same for her and yet Rey failed time and time again to make Ben _see_ it.

That’s about the time when she gave up on herself, she thinks, and in a blind fit of denial she goes and tries to do what she’s done all of her life – _survive_. But Rey chose the wrong planet because Luke _kriffing_ Skywalker comes sauntering out of the TIE wreckage in all of his deathly glory.

 _Death was kind to Luke,_ a derisive part of Rey’s mind snarls but, once again, she takes it in stride and forces her mind to understand Luke’s words and follow them, like a child needing to be directed at every turn. And maybe Rey does need that, though she had barely strapped herself in the cockpit of Skywalker’s old X-Wing when she feels her soul tighten into a smaller, more insignificant ball.

It’s a horror story, and Rey wants nothing but to forget it – the pain, the loneliness and the unending string of questions thrown in Ben’s general direction, in the Force, asking where he is and what he’s doing, _begging_ him not to leave her alone to this awful fate that the old Jedi Masters left upon her bony shoulders.

She almost takes it to heart and ends Palpatine's life right there, if only the pain and longing and loneliness would _go away_ , but then Ben is there. For the first time in her life, Rey really meets the real Ben Solo and not the idealistic idea she’s had of him since they met. Rey sees him with her eyes, and she promptly falls in love with him, like something inside of her was always just waiting for this very moment.

Her shaken soul twitches, raises its head at the smell of hope and at the familiarity of Ben’s presence, and Rey almost weeps when she sees him step up by her side.

And then everything goes to hell.

Rey shakes her head, turning back to reality – back to gritty, _real_ and _touchable_ Coruscant, and tries very hard to not be hit by a passing speeder or ground car. She forbids her mind from conjuring any image of perfect, beautiful Ben Solo, in all of his snarking glory and has to physically hit the nearest wall in order for this insignificant, passing pain to replace the awful, gaping maw inside her chest.

Ben dead on the ground was the last drop for her poor, poor soul. She doesn’t even remember much besides the rushing of adrenaline in her veins and her eyes, dry and unblinking, mind uncomprehending that he has literally just dissolved in front of her, when one second ago he was _solid_ and warm and in her arms. The scavenger in Rey– the Jakku native and the cynic – could not comprehend what happened.

Her heart turned to stone and, if by some miracle it hadn't yet, then her soul surely shriveled up into a smooth rock ball, as small and insignificant as Rey herself is in the grand scheme of things. And as Ben was too, it seems. The time between then and returning to the X-Wing is a complete blank. The first real image to replace Ben’s sweet smile was the curtain of stars on the viewport, as her hand drifted towards the hyperspace throttle.

It was the shock – and it’s ultimately what she attributes it to because she couldn’t function properly for five straight days afterwards. Rey can barely recall drinking the occasional glass of water and she doubts that any food passed through her stomach those days. There was definitely no sleep either, no matter how much her body threatened to shut down. And Rey had tearfully willed it to cut the cord already, because she couldn’t take the constant clamor of her surroundings anymore.

No one saw anything wrong with her though, not that she expected them to. The whole Rebellion – _the whole galaxy_ – was too preoccupied with swiftly cleaning up the remaining First Order factions and partying. Between those two very important missions, Rey was barely bothered by anyone and she was thankful for that.

She needed time to process things. Her mind, in a strong reflex born out of the raw need to just _survive_ for one more day, had promptly kept the enormity of what had just transpired tightly locked up. Rey still doesn’t know what shifted to open that dam, but she is afraid to even allude to that particular event anymore.

It was early evening. She was (dreadfully) alone when she felt a jolt, a novelty over the constant numbness constantly clouding her mind. The pain came then, in a violent streak that left a red flash burning behind her eyelids. It clawed at her insides and stuffed her lungs until Rey felt like she was suffocating. Her knees buckled under her then and Rey remembers falling onto the spotted floor of her room, eyes full of tears, gasping for air.

She made the big mistake of prodding their bond – another reflex, but born out of something else than survival, though crucial all the same. It was a rope, a line, but more like a feeling that transmuted into a known object that could be easily interpreted, lest her mind exploded trying to understand it. Nonetheless, the sizeable amount of pure _hurt_ emanating from it made her faint at the intensity, right there on the chilly floor.

That line is snapped now, but not cleanly in half, as Rey concluded later on when she felt brave enough to try and face the agonizing pain again. She grimaces even now, when she tries to picture it. It’s been torn off, leaving strands behind and fragments of thread floating around her invisible mindscape.

Ben’s part vanished, and Rey needed a few weeks just to learn and breath again and she thinks that it will take her some decades to learn to _live_ with the thought. She cannot settle with the thought, but she also can do nothing about it.

Going to Tatooine three days after their victory was a roulette of sorts, but most of all, it was her trying to pay a tribute to the only family she’s come to know as something close to being part of. In her numb mind and smooth, shadow of a soul, she ignored the pull of the Force and the wrongness never registered until later when she would wake up from her pain-induced faint and think over the events of last week once again.

The Force screamed, raw and painful around her, telling her to stop but Rey, dutiful and a good girl as ever, plunged ahead and buried the Skywalker’s lightsabers in the sands of Tatooine. She doesn’t know what possessed her to adopt the Skywalker name, but it was probably more out of traction than anything else.

Rey can almost remember building her own lightsaber, but between the sleepless nights and the fervent trying to avoid the pain swimming through her, it is a tough attempt. She had grasped any activity that would keep her mind preoccupied. She questions her sanity every day when she thinks back to Luke and Leia appearing before her, and she has to bite her lip from screaming out at the unfairness of it all. Truthfully, the one she wanted to seek out was Ben.

Rey figured that he might have become one with the Force and, consequently and as the trend would have it, one of the Force ghosts. But he did not appear no matter how much time passed, and no matter how much she tried calling out to him, he did not grace her with his bluish presence and his sarcastic remarks that Rey could just _picture_ in the intimacy of her thoughts.

It took her one more week to gather the courage and prod, both at her mind and at the scarred bond and it took her two more weeks of tiresome stubbornness and fervent meditation to reach one simple conclusion.

It was gone and yet something still felt off.

Rey reached for that feeling but no matter how hard she tried, she could never truly touch it. Like an itch, begging to be scratched but continuously insisting, by its very existence, that something was out of place. Truly, Rey was afraid to offer the metaphorical scratch, but when nothing happened when she left it unbothered besides relentlessly _bothering her_ , she did it, heart in her throat.

She did not expect to feel the phantom of a tug from the bond and the enormity of the motion made her lose all her concentration and drop on the floor where she proceeded to just weep.

The tug had to be studied and understood and by the time Rey and the galaxy stepped foot into the third month of their victorious stunt, she thought that she understood what the tug wanted and meant. It was trying to lead her somewhere, first of all, and not communicate. But it was still so weak of a signal that Rey couldn’t properly decipher it.

So, she went to the only place she knew that could possibly amplify what she felt in the Force, even if having to face Ach-To again was a nightmare in the making. Rey had carefully avoided looking at the burnt carcass of _Ben’s_ TIE, and studiously kept out of any sentient creature’s way as she climbed the steep hills to the place of her training, so long ago now that if felt like a century has passed.

Rey remembers opening her mind and peering closer, only to remain baffled in the wake of her discovery. The Force felt unsettled, warped and full of whirlpools without beginning or end. There was no tranquility, but maybe that was because there was still so much tumult in the galaxy proper. Rey couldn’t possibly offer any logical reason because her interest did not lie in that, no matter how much a small part of her mind screamed that there should have been balance.

_She rather stubbornly evaded thinking of any reason why this precious balance they kept trying to achieve was absent because that was a problem for another day or another generation altogether. The thought that their fight against Palpatine and thus, Ben’s death, might have been for nothing, filled her with such unbridled rage that she had to try again the next day._

The first Jedi temple offered the answers Rey wanted when she found the strength to meditate without falling too deeply into her cycle of morbid thoughts. The tug intensified by a hair’s breadth, but it was still something and it kept pulling her somewhere.

Thankful that this journey was not for nothing, Rey remained on the island and searched this feeling, like the Jedi profess to have done, until she felt satisfied that she had nothing more to learn from it. She also leafed through the old scripts, hauled over half of the galaxy on a whim and with renewed hope and it took her some reading and re-reading and then some more perusing until she got tired of them all.

These texts were hard enough to pass through once, Rey more than loathed having to try and understand them and waste precious time as a result.

The revelation came to her one night after a particularly awful nightmare in which she saw Ben die again, this time by Palpatine’s hand. She can never fault her mind for being so creative, but she _kriffing_ hates it with a passion. It was another push from the Force and a subsequent result of the earthquake shaking the island that one of the texts slipped to the floor, open and more than blaring at her to pick it up.

There was a small passage – so small and inconsequent that she surely must have passed it by without another glance. Rey didn’t remember ever encountering it either, even if nearby there’s information about the Sith Wayfinders. The poor Force must have a hard time not slapping her off the edge of the planet, she’s sure.

 _And if Ben was there instead, he’d have found it in a heartbeat_ , Rey thinks rather derisively as she’s pulled out of her thoughts and back to Coruscant.

She has come to find the planet uninteresting and lifeless, no matter how many beings are on it. She feels the mountains of concrete threatening to bury her if she stops for too long in one place.

As it is, Rey neither has the credits nor the time to take a break, so she drags her feet onwards, making her way upwards, to the higher levels. She thinks she’s close, but then she finds another five levels and three suspended walkways to pass until her destination should come into view, and Rey bares her teeth at this complicated city and its even more complicated pathways. The general population also starts to take notice of a dirty young woman in grey and dark brown clothes walking around, disrupting their peace with her overall appearance and a dangerous aura that she purposely emits.

Nevertheless, her footsteps hasten towards the looming building in the distance and ponders that maybe Ben would have had better luck attempting this.

The Force showed her a written passage that night, about a mystical place – _plane_ , more like it. Some location where the passageways of the Force convene and gather all factions of time and space, and the information was literally sitting right in her lap. Rey never felt more like an idiot before that moment. It took her another second to make sense of it, but when her mind finally settled on the logical conclusion her chest had swelled with hope.

There were two possibilities that she could figure out – either Ben was stuck in that dimension or whatever it is, or he’s lost somewhere else.

And Rey, resolved to find him no matter what, did the dumbest thing and followed the bond’s tug without a second thought or any moment of preparation. It brought her to Lothal, to an empty field where Rey all but screamed her lungs out as she fell to her knees. There was nothing here, no ancient Jedi temple depicted in the books, _nothing_ to offer any kind of clue to what relation Lothal has to anything else.

It was an exercise of the imagination, to try and reconstruct the building depicted in the Jedi scripts. Rey spent a day on that nothingness, sitting with her hands over her knees and staring in the distance, willing the clouds to part and reveal something, _anything_ substantial. By the time the sun rose again, she was still there, watching it and feeling hollow and numb.

The bright sun bathed an animal’s form in golden light and Rey watched it close in on her position. The animal was large and furry, with dangerous fangs and sharp claws that scraped the ground and left visible steps behind. It was at least two heads taller than her, but there was no threat in the Force from its direction. Rey felt nothing but a curious calm surrounding it, as the wolf approached her carefully. When it was close enough, it sniffed at her carefully, trying to determine whether she was friend or foe, but Rey barely felt human those days. She cannot pretend to know what the wolf found in the husk of a human just sitting in the middle of its home. Rey had nothing to offer and, quite frankly, being eaten by a big, scary wolf was starting to sound rather appealing in the face of the humongous disappointment she got from her supposed ray of hope.

What she didn’t count on, was the wolf being able to influence the Force. The peculiar feeling that she got was enough to raise goosebumps on the exposed skin of her arms, despite the warm embrace of the sun. Rey watched the wolf carefully as it watched her in return, one of its ears twitching as if it was trying to decide what to do with her.

Rey’s never met an animal with that much sentience before. It was not speaking out loud, but through _the Force_. Which was something altogether new to her because even with Ben, they usually preferred to use words that bit and remarks that dug deep down. A game of who would get wounded first.

This wolf, this creature, was wagging its tail and coming startlingly close to her. It nudged at her feet and Rey had to bite down a yelp because her mind flashed with a morbid image of her feet missing. But the wolf only tilted its head in a shockingly human gesture and turned around, waited a moment before starting to walk in a seemingly random direction. And, without much to do or think, Rey stood up slowly, carefully and started after it. Curiosity is an overwhelming personality trait that will probably get her killed at some point, but right then it led her where she needed to go.

The large animal stopped abruptly, in a random place on the still empty plane and Rey bites back a disappointed groan. She got her hopes up for nothing then. She watched the wolf claw at the ground, sniff it and then jump up and down, looking in her direction expectantly. Rey cleared her throat, because at that point it was all she can do to keep her sanity in check. Then she approached and blinked as a pasty white cloud dispersed to reveal a seal on the ground, enclosed by a circle. There was a another, smaller one a few feet away, but that one was empty.

No, looking at it another way, the two circles constructed a seal. Rey squinted at the ground, but the drawings made no sense to her. Either way, she decided that if the wolf could touch it, she could as well.

The surface was rough, and the ground was humid. Rey grimaced but the wolf rejoices in the Force and barks out loud. She shoots it a questioning look, but all she felt was the animal pushing on the Force around itself more insistently. It ran one, two laps around her and then got too impatient and simply started running towards her.

Rey backpedaled rapidly out of the way, but the wolf wasn’t aiming for her in the first place. It ran full speed ahead and when its paws touched the outline of the circle, something in the ground dropped and the animal just sank into the ground. Which was crazy, Force wolf who didn’t try to eat her notwithstanding. How did it do that?

Frowning, she squatted forward, one hand resting on the symbol. That animal must have used a rudimentary sentience and most of it probably came with the Force. So it must have, most of all, known how to use the Force and that might very well be the key. Rey used the Force, pushed her energy into the symbol and suddenly she was in freefall, dropping towards the ground at an alarming speed.

She made to close her eyes, but then realized that she can save herself from a pretty embarrassing death. The Force cushioned her fall and the tips of her boots touched an earth almost black in color, murkier than what was on Lothal’s surface. Rey looked around in wonder, because what she found there, underground, was an altogether another world.

It was a temple – in ruins, but a temple nonetheless. The innocuous Jedi temple she was searching for. And it was a destroyed, pitiful thing and Rey fell to the ground when she saw the calamity.

There was barely anything there anymore and Rey couldn’t imagine finding anything remotely useful to aid her in her quest. Before she gave into despair, she consulted the bond, half afraid that it had disappeared, now that she arrived where it wanted to take her.

She had sighed in relief when she felt the tug again, directing her through the debris and around the fallen structure. Arriving on the other side, there was nothing there but more fallen pieces of rocks, though this time her eyes caught color in the sad backdrop.

Some of the rock fragments were painted. Rey took a moment to scan the specimen, then started to look for the rest. It was tiresome work, but she enjoyed the physical labor and it took her until dusk to collect most of it. After that, it was only a matter of using the Force to connect them all and hope that she found everything important.

The resulting picture was a strange depiction of three humanoids, but beautifully painted even if some of the smaller pieces were missing. Rey surely hoped that they weren’t too important because it would take her an enormous amount of time to scavenge around for those, too.

Just as she was trying to figure out how to place it on the ground, the picture started to shine, as luminous as any sun. Rey was forced to cover her eyes, feeling the Force swell but not having enough knowledge to understand _why_ and why it brought her to this picture in the first place.

Rey remembers feeling one last, powerful tug and then waking up to find herself on an overpopulated planet that she later learned was actually Coruscant. Her first thought was that she was teleported here by mistake, and Rey tried her best to find a way back to Lothal, but the agitation around her proved an obstacle. Not more so than the absence of credits or any supplies on her person, and definitely not more than the fleeting news broadcast on the holonet that she happened to catch.

Rey had tried very hard to contain her despair in that grim moment, when she glimpsed the date. The only thing to do was find answers, and judging by said date, she figured that she could seek answers from the masters themselves.

The Jedi Temple is a monolith even from this distance, but the closer Rey gets, the more she feels like an ant waiting to be stepped on. She has no plan, no way to know how they will react when she tells them the truth or what they will think of her. But she has no reason to lie to them, either.

The bond, the painting, the _Force_ , they all brought her here and Rey continues to believe that it is for a reason.

So, she makes her way towards the Temple, with renewed energy every time she lets her mind wander in Ben’s direction.

There are two sentry guards, as she dreaded. There’s no plan though, and Rey doesn’t know what to tell them to bring her to the upper echelons besides shoving her yellow lightsaber in their faces and demanding it.

“I would like to speak with the Masters!” Her words echo off their stony faces and Rey wonders if she’s in the wrong place. “Please?”

Their reactions are overwhelming when they deem her strange and powerful enough to be a danger. The lightsaber is plucked from her side and her hands are bound together, but instead of being brought in front of the Masters, the Guards shove her in a damp, warm cell and slam the door shut.

Rey bites her lip and tries very hard not to get discouraged. Surely her lightsaber will raise some questions, she just needs to patiently wait for them to demand her presence for answers.

Until then, she tries her very best to meditate and dispel the feeling that she just made a grave mistake.

* * *

It’s a long three hours later when the door to her cell groans open again and another set of guards come to drag her out. They go upwards this time, in a turbolift that slips through innumerable levels that Rey feels dizzy just imagining their distance from the relative ground of this level of Coruscant.

There is a set of ornate doors on the other side of the corridor and they slip open to admit her before closing again with an ominous _boom_. Rey barely has time to take in the circle of seated beings and holos before she’s Force-pulled into the circle.

She glares at the first beings her eyes fall on, and they stare impassively down at her.

“We’d like an explanation, if you please.”

Rey jumps because this man’s voice is familiar even though she’s never seen him in her life.

“Curious indeed, this is.”

The Jedi next to the first one speaks, and Rey’s brows climb further on her forehead. She might not recognize the bald man, but it’s hard not to figure out who the other person is. 

Wizened, ancient eyes seem to peel off every layer of protection she has ever built up for herself over the years.

“An unknown you are, and yet a lightsaber you have.” Master Yoda points at her with his cane. Rey swallows down the knot of anxiety in her throat and tries to formulate a plan but falls admittedly short.

“We know you can speak, judging from your energetic entrance. So, you might as well start doing so.” The bald Jedi crosses his arms over his chest.

Rey looks out of the window once before she looks at them again. She doesn’t even know how to begin, but somehow the words manage to fall from between her lips and she ends up telling them everything.

“Pulled through the painting on Lothal, were you?” Master Yoda hums, looking ponderous and definitely believing Rey’s absurd story, much to her instant relief. “From the future, you are truly!”

“What where you trying to achieve on Lothal?” Another Jedi asks, a Tholothian this time.

Rey doesn’t recognize her voice, but her friendly smile feels safer than the inquisitive glower the bald Jedi is constantly regarding her with.

“I simply followed a tug from the Force.” Rey answers and shifts in place because her answer leaves much to be desired, but she has to fight against a lifetime of keeping secrets.

“To what end?” The first Jedi asks dryly, but nonetheless interested. “You do not seem to be a Jedi, girl.”

“Let us not fall on false conclusions, master Windu.” A Cerean master says, and Rey profoundly thanks him for the swift interference. “The girl seems trained in the Force to some degree.”

Master Windu snorts and Rey strains not to glare back at him.

“I have to find someone.” And the thought brings forth a fresh wave of misery and pain. “I followed this tug to Lothal because I found a mention in the ancient Jedi texts. Of a plane where the planes of the Force gather. They called it the Chain Worlds Theorem.”

The room stills and Rey’s desert predisposition senses the sudden drop in temperature. If it’s not the tension, it is the sudden increase in piercing looks pointed in her general direction.

Master Yoda seems the most relaxed out of them all, a sure contrast to the slack-jawed master Windu or the sudden wave of distressed chatter coming from behind.

Master Yoda chuckles.

“Interesting, this is! Very few mentions of beings able to access the sacred plane, there are.” The old Jedi abruptly stops and studies her intently. “Why did the Force grant you entry, hmm?”

Rey is hardly able to keep up with the curious way the old being is speaking, and she barely has time to put together a coherent answer.

“I’m-I-“ Rey stops and clears her throat. She has to tell them everything, but she _doesn’t know how._

Rey starts to wonder – is she afraid of them denying that a dyad exists? That it’s all been a lie? Another of Palpatine’s manipulations in his most powerful hour?

She inhales, exhales and tries again, clenches her fist against the cuffs holding her wrists, not allowing herself to shrink under their heavy gazes.

“The person I am looking for and I,” Rey’s gaze falls outside, to the millions of beings stuck into everyday traffic and wonders. Out of all the possibilities, she and Ben were destined to be one. And they were – for one fleeting, wonderful second, “we are a dyad in the Force. _Were_.”

She swallows the pain back into her chest and croaks.

“He died. Or I thought that he did, but then I felt a tug at the snapped end of our Force bond, and I followed it to Lothal.” It’s easier to spill everything now, with relentless abandon and Rey wonders what kept her until now. “That picture in the temple brought me here. It must be guiding me to him.”

“Not dead he is then.” Master Yoda concludes, tapping his cane thoughtfully.

Master Windu sputters. Rey’s heart soars.

“A dyad in the Force is only a theoretical conception.” The Cerean master says.

“And the Chain Worlds Theorem isn’t?” Another master, a Kel Dor male, retorts calmly. Rey doesn’t know how that works. “I sense no lies from the girl, so it must be true.”

“What if she’s crazy?” Another master asks, somewhere behind her and Rey does not dare turn around because she will show master Yoda and master Windu her back, but she glares at the floor instead.

They dare assume so, but who wouldn’t? She’s just glad that they haven’t thrown her out already.

“Doubt I do, that she is.” Savior as he is, master Yoda declares with a secretive smile that just begs to be asked more. Rey resolves to do just that, but sometime when she is not in cuffs or surrounded by people asking if she has her mind intact. “But lost she is, unfortunately.”

Rey bows her head, examining her dirty boots. She takes the moment of silence as a respite before she raises her chin and speaks with all the conviction she holds.

“I need your help, Masters! Please help me understand my situation and guide me onto a better path.”

“No better path but the one you choose is.” Master Yoda says sagely and Rey’s shoulders sag, whether in relief or disappointment, she isn’t sure.

“The Chain Worlds Theorem refers to a world between worlds.” Master Windu speaks and it surprises Rey enough to make her snap to attention immediately. “The doorway to access it is supposedly in the Jedi Temple on Lothal, through the ancient painting of the Mortis gods.”

Rey frowns, trying to remember the picture she assembled not quite so long ago.

“There were three people in that painting.”

“The Mortis gods, three there are. The Father, the Daughter and the Son. Extremely powerful in the Force they were.”

“If you passed through the world between worlds, then you must have seen it.” Master Windu rests his hands in his long sleeves. “Did you see them? All those doorways and timelines?”

Rey frowns, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she takes a moment to remember. Her mind cannot conjure anything remotely close to what master Windu says, Rey thinks with mounting dismay.

“No, I can’t remember. I just woke up here.”

The Jedi surrounding the two masters shift in their seats, uncomfortable and unsettled by the information.

“You said you are a dyad in the Force, but you also have a Force bond, yes?” One of the few women present on the council, a Togruta, inquires and Rey can only nod, grateful for the change in subject. “That is more than rare.”

“Indeed that is, master Shaak Ti.” Master Yoda regards Rey in such a way that she feels the need to shield her mind, if only out of innate reflex. “Not really a Jedi, you seem. But neither a Sith you are.”

Rey licks her lips, thinks of all the _kriffing_ conflict that’s been going on, inside of her as well as outside in the last few years, and she doesn’t know how to answer him without it being an over exaggeration or full of mindless modesty.

“I have tried my best and damnest to follow the Jedi teachings.”

And that is the gist of it and everything she can say about this particular matter. In the end, she was all the Jedi, but nowadays she wonders if they only allowed her the honor because Ben was thrown down that awful pit and there was literally no one else who could face Palpatine in that moment.

Master Yoda laughs and it’s a strange laugh, but it seems to somewhat allow the rest of the masters to relax. Rey herself feels better now that the tension is slowly trickling away.

“And the man you are searching for?” Master Windu prompts, steepling his fingers over his lap. This man is a shifty mess, Rey concludes and fights back a smile. “Is he a somewhat-Jedi as well?”

Rey hides her grimace with a tight smile.

“He was.” 

_A long time ago._

Master Windu sighs and looks askance to master Yoda. The older Jedi only smiles furtively and leans back in his seat, content to just watch for now.

Rey tries to look around, get the general feeling in the room, but she cannot turn much without seeming impolite. So, she resolves to patiently wait for a conclusion, whatever that might be.

“I’m afraid to say that I do not know how to help you.” The Cerean master intones carefully. “I’ve never been confronted with something of the kind.”

His colleagues all agree with him with nods or small words, spoken softly and with much regret. Rey understands their confusion and shares their helplessness, but she still came here expecting to find at least a push in the right direction.

“Your name is?” Master Yoda tilts his head to the side, his wide eyes impossibly encompassing.

“Rey.” Her name slips through her lips, nothing but a first name. She stills against the surname she chose for herself in a moment of discomfiture because however much she wants to be part of the Skywalkers, Rey knows that she’s not related to any of them by blood.

There is also the problem that this name is going to be flaunted around at some point, most probably in the future or even in the present and Rey does not need that kind of shitfest manifesting.

“Rey.” Master Yoda inclines his head in acknowledgement. “Many Jedi with only one name, there are. Like you.”

Rey cannot possibly comprehend if Master Yoda says this as an off-handed observation or whether he senses something from her general direction. She has the predilection of releasing her woes into the Force, but after the struggles she’s been through, Rey thought that maybe she wasn’t broadcasting so much anymore.

_She cannot imagine the magnitude of what Ben must have endured from her in the beginning, through their bond and otherwise and she’s more than embarrassed to think about it now._

Rey blinks back the sudden sheen of tears in her eyes anyways, because master Yoda said the words she’s wanted to hear for _years_. It’s a bittersweet thought, pondering what might have been, were the Jedi Order still around.

Rey bows her head after many other masters have followed Yoda’s cue.

“Unfortunately, Rey,” Master Windu’s mouth is a tight line and his eyes are full of speculation as he seems to be mulling over a thought, “there are scarce writings on the things you brought before us today. Dyads are as rare as people time travelling through space and time.”

Rey winces, against her will.

“There is also the question of your yellow lightsaber.”

Master Windu looks at her with pointed inquiry and Rey’s back straightens in response. She will not tolerate someone slandering her lightsaber.

_She still doesn’t know how she managed to find Ben’s – Kylo’s – lightsaber in the ruins of the Death Star, but she did. It was the Force again, as per usual, guiding her way to it and whispering for her to take it. The cracked red crystal felt strange in her hand, a product of its former master, but less hateful though still full of the Dark Side. Rey had closed her eyes and called on the Force – called onto Ben, but he had kept his stony silence, still unbeknownst to her that he might not be there after all. The crystal purified itself, as if it was just waiting for her to arrive and call out to it, and Rey appropriated it as hers and built herself a weapon around it._

“Yes, what about it?” She asks with much more bite than she wanted.

“Rare, they are.” Master Yoda slides in, diffuses the incoming argument. “Like everything else about you, that you’ve told. But not nonexistent.”

The old Master pauses then speaks again, against the backdrop of protruding silence that he left in his wake a moment ago.

“Not much to help you, we can do.” A thick claw rises to point at her. “Your feelings you must search, young one. Everything you need,” he insists with that finger, in the direction of her chest and most probably her heart, “in there you will find.”

Despite being thoroughly underwhelmed by the discussion, Rey cannot say that it didn’t at least reinforce her self-confidence and the notion that she has to trust herself first of all. So, with a lighter heart and a determined set to her shoulders, Rey nods and offers the masters a small smile in thanks.

A relatively awkward silence follows during which she wonders whether they will leave her free or lock her in her cell again. Considering that they seem to believe her, Rey honestly hopes that they won’t.

The masters look at one another and they seem to be having a wordless debate over what to do with her. Rey tries very hard to look unthreatening and sweet and hopes for the best.

It’s her growling stomach that has the last word and the Togruta master awards her with an amused smile as she speaks.

“In the meantime, you may stay with us, Rey. An empty Padawan’s room will be appointed to you.”

Rey swallows back her grateful tears and bows her head in silent thanks. Her cuffs click open and fall to the ground with a decisive _thunk_ a moment later, the doors opening accordingly to excuse her. She gets the signal to follow the Guards and departs with much hesitation, but not another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lothal    
>  The painting 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you by the sudden vacation we got from uni thx to the virus outbreak. I will do my best to update more in the coming weeks, since I apparently have a lot of free time on my hands right now
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

**CORUSCANT**

Rey is not sure if she made the right call telling the Jedi masters everything, but at least now she knows more about the so-called ‘world between worlds’ and the picture that brought her here.

It is a strange experience to have what seems like a myth become real enough to throw you around the space-time continuum. Whether Ben is in that plane with the doors master Windu talked of, or is simply lost like her in another time remains to be seen.

There is not much to do but think in the impersonal padawan room they offered her, and Rey’s mouth twists with displeasure. She pouts, looks around once, twice, maybe three times and tries to figure out what to do.

She is very tired, but a meal will also be very welcome, so Rey decides to brave the journey and makes her way out into the corridor. Her feet start in a random direction and her only hope is that she will find something to eat before she starves in a random deserted hallway.

There are so many children passing through the halls, running by her and talking without much care for anything else. Rey’s heart clenches at the sight of them, and she wishes away the invading thoughts and _what if_ s that threaten to distract her from her real mission.

She needs to find Ben and nothing else. Rey cannot stay here, no matter the strange feeling of belonging pervading these halls, and definitely not when there is a chance to bring him back.

Contrary to her expectations, Rey easily finds the grand hall where the Jedi eat and she attributes it to years of scouring for scraps of food. She developed a sixth sense about food at some point in her terrible childhood.

The Jedi let her enter and they even give her a full portion of what is serving today, just like the other members of the Order get, but otherwise they keep their distance. Rey’s relegated to an empty table’s head where she scarfs down everything on the large plate in under ten minutes and then gladly leaves the enormous room behind, heading the way she came from.

She keeps feeling intrigued gazes on her back, like a brand that marks her every step, all the way to her room. Rey sighs in relief when the door shuts softly behind her. She sways on her feet, the narrow bed a vision of comfort sent by the Maker and a comfortable safe haven. Despite the burning need, Rey resolves to leave meditating for tomorrow, for when her mind will be clearer.

Whatever the Force wants with her and wherever it wants to bring her, it seems to be dead set on getting her there. Therefore, Rey is slightly less panicked about the situation she’s in. Surely, she may be able to corner Master Yoda in the morning and ask for more guidance if she can’t figure it out by herself. But considering all that happened until now, Rey honestly tries to stop doubting in the stubbornness of their bond.

* * *

The dreams that come to her that night are peculiar in their intensity.

In the past, untouched by the wild world outside of Jakku, young Rey would have vivid dreams, with so many exquisite details that she would be able to remember for days to come. These visions were the only things that kept her sane through the long, hard days of labor.

During the war, her dreams descended into a mess that hardly ever made sense or came to a conclusion, and most of the time Rey was more tired when she woke up.

Nowadays, her dreams are barely there. Blurs of colors and passing images that are sometimes too fast to remember after she wakes up. The good dreams are never present in her memory for long, but the nightmares are always there to make their mark.

Rey knows by now how a nightmare starts and it is almost always with the voices. She thinks that they’re the voices of all the Jedi, but she’s never really had time to test her theory because the images start soon afterwards. And they make her forget all about the eerie speakers. What Rey sees then are twisted memories, amplified and concocted by her own mind especially for her, to make her suffer and Rey has never heard such utter bantha shit before, but it is there alright.

Such a row of nightmares assaults her on the first night in the Jedi Order’s Temple. They start, unusually, with Han’s voice and continue until Rey thinks that she hears Ben speak, but just as she’s becoming aware of that, Rey is transported onto a battlefield.

The large boulevard she walked to get to the Temple’s entrance is littered with corpses, dressed like the Jedi and numbering in the thousands. Maybe more. Rey cannot possibly count them all. She cannot see any of their faces either.

Between the fallen Jedi, she spies bodies clad in white armor, so reminiscent of the stormtroopers she knows that she cowers back instinctively, even though they’re well and truly dead. A group of kids materializes out of nowhere, and Rey catches them out of the corner of her eye, playing out in the street over the bodies slick with blood and gore, as if they do not see them. She tries to shout out to them but they neither hear, nor see her.

“ _What_ are you?”

Rey freezes because this is Ben’s voice, talking to her and it is coming from behind. Rey leaves the kids to continue playing over the dead and turns her head slowly. It’s not Ben who greets her back, nor is it Kylo Ren as he sometimes appears in her dreams. There’s a black clad figure standing a hair’s breadth away from her, with its hood pulled up and Rey can see nothing but its bright yellow eyes and the reflection of a blue lightsaber in them.

The figure’s gaze is burning through her, from the inside out, and it speaks again before her dream self can react. This time, its voice is lighter and definitely not Ben’s, when it bares it teeth and hisses.

“ _Sith spawn!_ ”

The blue lightsaber lifts rapidly towards her and without much reflexes to speak of in this dreamscape, Rey screams.

She wakes up, a shivering mess, and throws the cover off her as if it will help to further escape the cloaked creature in her dream. Rey stumbles to the fresher and glares at the small mirror on the wall that, in the predawn light, shows her looking half-crazed. She tries to calm down, breathes slowly and recounts where she is and what she needs to do.

It is a while until Rey can properly function again, and she ignores the need to check over her shoulder every few minutes for that creature as she prepares to face another, peculiar day in the past with the Jedi Order.

From what she imagines, and what little she managed to strangle out of Luke and the Jedi books, the Order must have some rooms where they can meditate. Rey struggles to find one such room but is immediately overwhelmed by the immense structure, so she swallows her pride and asks the first person she sees for help.

The man is a Jedi Knight and he is more than forthcoming on where she can find the meditation chambers. He even accompanies her half of the way there.

Unused to such kindness, Rey thanks him and accomplishes the rest of the journey alone.

The meditation chamber is actually one big room, full of small rugs and home to a small waterfall and a garden. It is so, _so_ quiet inside, that even the fall of water seems muted from where she continues to stand in the doorway, shifting nervously in place.

There is quite a big number of Jedi here already, despite the early hour of the day and she is suddenly anxious to step inside. She’s been counting on being mostly alone, but the sheer number of presences in the room is daunting. It’s even worse when that sneaky voice inside her mind sneers to her that she’s not even a Jedi, speaking unwanted truths and making her hesitation spike. Rey has no claim to a spot in this room, and she shouldn’t-

“Indecisive, you are.” The simple observation is spoken at a normal volume, but because of Rey’s nightly terrors, she jumps and backs away from the speaker.

Master Yoda follows her with his serene gaze. Rey clears her throat and rolls back her shoulders. At this point it might be too much to hope that her appearance is anything but disheveled.

“Master Yoda!” She whispers, bowing her head. “Good morning.”

“Whisper, why do you?”

Rey eyes the meditating Jedi for a moment, as if reassuring herself that her logic is perfectly reasonable and points a finger.

“They are meditating inside.”

Master Yoda starts laughing and Rey feels chastened and more than a little embarrassed, though along with these feelings, frustration bleeds through to the surface. The old Jedi abruptly stops and studies her with an inquisitive gaze, all traces of amusement gone.

“Deep into meditation, they are. Frivolous sounds like these, hear they do not.” Master Yoda waves away her concerns and starts down the hallway. He says nothing to Rey, but she feels compelled to follow him, so she does until he stops and waves a side door open.

Rey peeks through, into a smaller space that is arranged the same as the big chamber, sans the waterfall. Master Yoda takes a seat on one cushion and points her to one of the other two free.

“Interesting person you are, Rey.”

Rey bows her head again, flushing at the comment. She hardly thinks that there’s anything remotely interesting about her other than the fact that she’s strong in the Force.

“And very troubled.”

A very astute observation. Rey bites her lip as her fingers mindlessly play with her frayed tunic.

“I am,” she agrees easily. Whether she is troubled by being alone or is troubled by her powers or is troubled by her feelings, there is always something to be troubled about. And if not, Rey finds something anyway, “troubled, yes.”

“When troubled you are, balance there is not.” Master Yoda points out mildly and Rey wants to laugh. There was never balance with her, not in this life.

It was only there for one moment and one precious kiss before it was gone forever.

“I know.”

“Your emotions rule you. Your fear blinds you. And your hatred, kill you it will, unless you learn to control these emotions of yours!”

Rey hopes that this assessment of her person is over and done with, because she surely is. Not that Master Yoda isn’t right, but she’s never been good at controlling her emotions and nulling them. Ben’s never been good at this either, they fit together that way.

“I know.” Rey says again, hoping that the old Jedi will get the hint this time. “I always try to not let my hatred and anger blind me and most of the time I succeed.”

A moment of silence passes between them, during which Master Yoda does not hesitate to examine her further, on a much deeper plane than before.

“Powerful in the Force, you are. Today what troubles you, young Rey?”

Rey blinks away her surprise and shifts in her seat, trying to find a more suitable position to sit in. She can feel her left foot already going numb.

“I’ve had a,” Rey licks her dry lips, “nightmare last night. It was awful.”

“Sometimes dreams, visions are.” And he’s very right about that, though in this case the matter is perplexing enough. The setting was clearly in this timeline, but it was Ben’s voice that she heard before that other voice accused her of being a Sith spawn.

Rey shivers again.

Or was it his voice? Who _was_ that other voice?

Either way, she has her own set of questions she’d like the old Jedi Master to answer, so Rey shakes the relentless chill the nightmare’s memory brings with it and leans over a little.

“Master Yoda, do you think that a person’s bloodline is what defines them?”

Master Yoda remains unruffled by the abrupt change of subject. He only shifts his small cane so that it rests on his knees and regards her with that peculiar expression again. Interested, but serene. Like water sliding off a leaf but still nurturing the plant as a whole.

“Always defined by bloodline someone is.” Master Yoda places his hands in his large sleeves, unaware (or maybe very much aware) of Rey’s internal despair at his words. “Why we live, that is. Able to choose we are. To be what our ancestors were or something more. To change and become something else, everyone can but in the end, the sins of our ancestors, we still carry. Learn to live with them and respect them, you must. Still do what you think is best you should, young Rey. Defined by your bloodline you are, but let it define _you_ ,” the old master shakes his head in something like dismay. As if he’s seen such thing before and it always ended in tragedy. Rey is aware of such personal circumstances herself. Ben was the living proof and the one who ultimately _died_ for the accumulated sins of his bloodline, “you should not!”

She swallows down a sob, though it is quite obvious at this point that she is crying. Big, fat tears slide down her face as her mind reels with Master Yoda’s words.

She’s been running away ever since the revelation and she wanted nothing to do with Palpatine’s bloodline, did not want to even hear the name spoken aloud. Rey was in such a bad mental state, in such denial, that in her darkest hour, she ended up appropriating the very family name her evil grandfather has targeted for _three_ _kriffing_ _generations_.

Force, she feels like such a hypocrite, more than ever now that Master Yoda’s words have truly registered.

“Do you really think that no one is beyond saving?” Rey hiccups, trying to get back a semblance of composure.

Master Yoda hums, unshaken by her display of vibrant emotions.

“That I do. But wish for it, that person must.”

She nods, scrubbing her eyes until she sees green stars dancing behind her closed eyelids.

“Can someone can be brought back from the dead, then?”

Master Yoda rocks a little in his seat and Rey sucks in a strangled breath at his indecision. She doesn’t know if it’s worse that he can’t give her a straightforward answer or not.

Finally, when she thinks that he won’t ever open his mouth and she won’t ever be able to breathe properly again, the old Jedi speaks.

“All living things, together the Force ties. All dead things, back to the flow of the Force must go.” Master Yoda purses his very thin lips into a firm line and Rey is struck by how much older he suddenly seems. “Understand, do you?”

He pauses, a cue or maybe a push for Rey to express what she can figure out from this covert lesson.

“Where they then tie all living things together?” She tries, but when nothing is forthcoming from the old Master, she expands. “Because they are one with the Force. And they go there and… are part of the ‘tying things together’… part?”

With every word she speaks, Rey feels dumber and dumber, and definitely not deserving of Master Yoda’s wisdom or mere presence. Her stumbling efforts are rewarded with a loud bout of laughter.

“Hardly eloquent, you are. But in the right place your heart is! It is as you’ve said, young Rey.”

Rey tries very hard not to raise an unimpressed eyebrow in return. This is hardly the first time she is called illiterate to her own face, but at least it isn’t said with any malice. Instead, she struggles to make the connection between Master Yoda’s words and what that means for Ben, and for her.

Unfortunately, she falls short, and not only because of the old Jedi’s undaunted capability to stare intensely and expect an answer out of her. By the end of the ten minutes mark, Rey’s intimidated and far, _far_ away from an adequate answer. Instead, a cold frustration rears its head in a far-off corner of her chest and expands rapidly throughout her whole person. It’s when it reaches her brain that all semblance of liberal politeness is gone and she all but snaps at the old Jedi still studying her every move.

“What does this mean for Ben, then?!”

Far from being the first time she lets something important slip, Rey still chastises herself inwardly and bites her cheek until she tastes blood. She probably made a big mistake, but on the other hand, Master Yoda seems unimpressed with her, on all points.

Which is maybe worse than her letting that important detail slip away.

“The result of letting your anger lead you, do you see? Things you want to keep a secret, you end up speaking out loud.” Master Yoda shakes his head and it’s maybe the third awful thing to happen to her since being thrown in a galaxy-wide war and Ben disappearing from her arms.

“Dead to me, this Ben does not seem. If the Force in his direction pulls you, then alive he must be!”

Rey stops short and her chest swells with hope for the first time in over two months. It’s maybe a little too much for her overworked mind to make sense of in such short order. But whether it’s that, or just an unmistakable amount of despair and raw pain suddenly lifting from her soul and her shoulders, she gasps as if struck by the very sentences.

Unmindful of her internal turmoil, Master Yoda elegantly finishes with, “Somewhere lost in the world between worlds he is,” he lifts his head a fraction, considering – her or her circumstances, Rey is unsure, “or lost in time, as you are.”

What was previously an unthinkable wish and an unapproachable state of mind suddenly transforms into blossoming faith that shocks even Rey with its intensity. It’s something she hasn’t felt in a long, long while and it’s almost vertigo that greets her along with this sudden clarity.

Rey blinks, trying to dispel the hazy image that replaced Master Yoda and finds that it’s tears that she expels with every blink of her eyes.

The old Master looks on, unruffled, if a little miffed by the amount of emotions that probably flitted over her face in the last two minutes. Rey is aware of the Jedi’s policy and she isn’t surprised to see even Master Yoda a little taken aback by the liberal display of feelings from someone who preaches about following in their footsteps.

“Who are you, young Rey?”

Rey frowns, her mind going back to yesterday’s discussion with the council. Back then, Yoda claimed that there was no need for family legacies and blood ties to make someone a Force user, yet now he poses this awful question she has come to dread and hate. Was it all inside her head then?

“I’m Rey.” She answers, stubborn and spiteful. “From nowhere.”

“Not of your family, I asked.” Master Yoda deflects her frustration with a wall of tranquility. He lifts his cane and points it at her neck. “Who _are_ you?”

Rey bites her tongue, watches the floor, watches the world outside through the small slit of a window to her left. The sky is the wonderful orange hue of sunrise, wisps of clouds bisecting it without rhythm or rhyme.

“I’m just someone searching for her dyad counterpart.” She swallows the rest of her obstinate words back because Master Yoda is suddenly throwing her the Jedi’s equivalent of a glare. Rey remembers it very well on Luke’s face, though his was with more fire behind it. Yoda’s is glacial and unassuming, which is even worse.

“Still defining yourself by someone else, you are!”

Rey’s eyes narrow and her brows furrow. This just got personal.

“There’s no ‘I’ in a _dyad_. Both of us are one!”

Master Yoda releases an undignified gripe that serves to somewhat appease her irritation with amusement.

“Two of you there are, shockingly.” Rey takes a mental step back at the sarcastic comment. She partly wonders how many other Jedi managed to bring the overly calm and level-headed Master Yoda to the state of mind where he starts launching sarcastic quips in a conversation. “Twins, you are not. Your own person you are, so a personality each of you must have.”

Rey wriggles in place because now she feels like a nerfherder. She’s been impolite to the Grandmaster of all Jedi. By this point she’s pretty sure that the Jedi records will mention her as the stupid girl who bothered Master Yoda once and (most probably) got kicked out of the Temple for it.

Rey exhales slowly and wills her mind to settle and approach her next answer carefully and honestly. Who is she? She has no idea. She’s been no one for so long and then she was _someone_ – a scavenger, a Jedi apprentice, the hope of the Resistance, a light in the darkness of the Final Order’s galaxy, a _Palpatine_ and then, because Rey is a sadist, she declared herself a Skywalker. But that’s not what Master Yoda wants. He wants an intense self-reflection that will end up in more pain and suffering than with a pleasant revelation.

“I’m just a girl.” Rey finally chokes out, through gritted teeth and with trembling fingers. Her eyes are fixed on the fine cracks on the stone floor because she dares not look at Master Yoda anymore.

“I’m just a scared girl who does not know her place in this galaxy. Who thought she discovered it, only to have it painfully pulled from her each and every time. I was a scavenger and then I wasn’t. I was a Jedi but then I wasn’t. If I’m not wasting away on Jakku, waiting for my family to come back, I’m running around the galaxy for the Resistance. If I’m not defending people, I’m killing other people.”

Rey all but sobs at this point, her voice long transformed into a lilting waveform filled with tears. She’s spilling too many things about the future, but she cannot find it in herself to care.

“I thought that this is what I want, I felt that they were a family to me, but.” She stops, wipes her nose and steadies her distressed rambling.

If she’s going to have a breakdown, then at least she will keep her chin held high through it. Her eyes swipe over Master Yoda’s impassive expression and finds that his eyes are filled only with invitation and patience.

“But they aren’t the family I am searching for. And just when I thought that I finally found it,” a sob escapes through her lips because what she sees before her eyes is not the old Master of the Jedi Temple anymore. It’s Ben’s smiling face between her hands and the warmth and belonging in his eyes, “they took him from me!”

“Took him from you.” Master Yoda repeats. “Who was it, young Rey?”

It’s peculiar that hearing the Grandmaster call her that makes her feel better. She sniffles and tries to answer as coherently as she can under these circumstances.

“The war, the voices, the Force,” Rey chants fervently and with a last hiss, she closes with the being she will hate for the rest of her life and beyond, “ _him_!”

There is a long moment in which neither she nor Master Yoda say anything. The silence is welcome though, because now Rey can start the long process of calming down and reflecting on what she has just said. Thankfully, the damage might not be as awful as she fears, judging by how Master Yoda is not strangling her for answers or requesting any information to do with the future. Rather, he looks thoughtful as he gazes at her crossed legs.

“Love him, do you?”

The question reverberates through the small room and pins Rey to the spot. Truthfully, she’s never allowed herself to name her feelings for Ben. It was something inadmissible at first, especially because she didn’t actually _know_ what she was feeling. Everything was too overwhelming and too vibrant after dull Jakku, to really stop for a long introspection.

Then she was kidnapped and Kylo Ren tried to rip her mind apart and then Han died, and Rey was convinced that she hated the man who killed the old smuggler with a passion. She actually tried to trick herself into hating him.

Only, after the bond connected them and Rey got to experience the full extent of the conflict between Ben and his uncle, things weren’t so black and white anymore. The grey area proved full of temptations and disappointments and Rey all but fell headfirst into it when she left for the _Supremacy_ , convinced that it will be that easy to turn Ben to the light, if only she went to him.

After that particular chain of events, Rey tried to go back to feeling discontent and disdain for the man who refused a future with her for the opportunity to rule the galaxy. But by then she was more confused than convinced, so she pushed those feelings to the side instead of working through them.

It worked for maybe a short year, in which Rey worked to ignore the bond and keep it so tightly locked that she quickly got used to the splitting headaches that came along with the effort. Jarringly, Ben’s insistent stalking and prudish attempts to break the truth of her lineage to her turned less fruitful and more vexing and Rey all but wanted to scream at him. She started attacking him instead, on top of the Death Star ruins, and almost _kriffing_ killed him.

It was in that horrifying split of a second, in which she realized the magnitude of what she has just done as she felt his Force signature waning under her very eyes, that Rey all but broke down. It was so damn frightening, healing Ben and fighting to keep a clear head in order to properly heal him, aware of how bad the wound she inflicted is.

These bothersome feelings swiftly disappeared when he met her gaze and Rey saw that he didn’t hold any hate or fear against her, but only a sad understanding veiled in confusion and shock. This was the moment when Rey was truly convinced that it is far from hatred what she feels when she thinks about Ben, the fluttering in her chest she feels when she catches sight of him, battlefield or not. Yet she was never able to say it out loud.

And Rey has regretted it every day for the last two months. She will tell him, _when_ she sees him again. Beyond the world between worlds and anything else that stands in her way to him.

Rey lifts her eyes to Master Yoda, who remains perpetually silent during her sudden bout of soul-searching.

It is a simple answer really, the one she gives at last. “I do.”

The old Jedi hums merrily, finally appeased that they are getting somewhere now.

“Good! Love, firm on your journey will help keep you. Hope, it will lend you in the trials to come.”

Rey opens her mouth, but she senses that Master Yoda is not done so she smoothly closes it back again. The old Jedi offers a wan smile.

“A long journey before you I sense.”

Rey hesitates now that Master Yoda seems unwilling to expand any further on that ominous declaration.

“In the good sense?”

The Grandmaster smiles wider and his eyes twinkle with mirth.

“Good as well as bad.” And this is far from helpful to Rey. The cane is back to being thrust in her face. “Believe in yourself, you must! In that frightened little girl searching for her place. Search and you will find it!”

Rey follows with a sinking heart as Master Yoda drags himself to a standing position, though even at his full height, he still only reaches to her nose. This is the most time she can get out of the Grandmaster’s busy schedule and she doesn’t know if she should feel disappointed that she couldn’t ask everything she wants or glad that she could get even this little.

Rey blinks as her lightsaber, confiscated since yesterday, is brought by the Force to a steady float in front of her face. She lifts her arms, gingerly accepting back her possession.

“Now,” Master Yoda lifts an eyebrow, yet the cane still wobbles in her direction. Rey shifts into a better position to deflect any incoming stick headed her way, “search your feelings you must. The time to not waste any more time has come!”

With this baffling resolution, Master Yoda leaves on surprisingly nimble legs that allow Rey no opportunity to thank him or inquire what the hell he means by that.

Once the door swishes closed, Rey huffs and lets herself lay down on the colorful rug. There’s a portion of skin on her forearm that touches the stone floor and it’s refreshing in its coldness. She gazes at the ceiling, trying to work through her still roiling emotions.

It is obvious what she needs to do, but she’s afraid that it won’t work a second time around. Maybe the first time it was a fluke. But it still sent her here, so there must be a higher reason. If not for anything else than keeping onto her fading sanity, Rey must believe that the Force has a plan for her and for Ben. For them.

With this thought in mind, she settles into a meditating position and frees herself of every thought and emotion, casting them in the whirlwind of the Force. Rey concentrates on their bond and tugs with all her might.

* * *

There is a short span of time when nothing happens and a slip of fear percolates through her tight defenses. But then the bond pulls forward and Rey all but pounces on that infinitesimal reaction.

It’s like moving mountains, trying to make sense of what it tells her. Back in her time, she felt it a sliver more powerful than it is now. The thought that it might be fading the more time she wastes is alarming, but Rey doesn’t let it dictate her reactions, not anymore. She insists and her efforts are rewarded with a short vision.

It is gone in a flash and it leaves her confused because she’s never seen that place in her life. Still, she caught the smaller details, such as traffic and innumerable buildings and Rey’s pretty sure that those hint that what she is searching for is right here on Coruscant.

Thank the Force for small miracles.

When she opens her eyes, the light is brighter than earlier. Rey figures that it must be close to lunch, especially judging by her growling stomach. With this thought in mind, she sits up and, under the glaring rays of light splitting the room in two, she makes a plan.

It’s only hunger and her need to get going that ultimately move Rey’s feet. She stops by the large mess hall to grab a quick bite to eat on the way out because she’s in too much of a fervor to get out of this timeline. The large number of Jedi peacefully enjoying their lunch barely break stride at the sight of her, harried and half jogging through their sacred halls and rooms.

She meets the Tholothian master at the slowly advancing line of beings waiting for food. The smells wafting over the stone counters are enough to still Rey in her hurry and she’s trying to decide what they are serving based on the sweet, subtly spicy aromas wafting over to her when the Jedi Master lightly taps her shoulder and greets her with a small smile.

“I’m happy to see that you are still with us.”

Rey winces internally, forgetting that she was ultimately allowed to stay here by the kindness of the Jedi Council. And she almost walked out on them without a word of thanks.

She has no time to waste gathering all the Council though, Rey thinks and her mind races for a heartbeat before she finds the very answer right behind her. The Tholothian woman raises a curious eyebrow in inquiry and it’s obvious that Rey’s thoughts are written all over her face. It is something she’s come to peace with lately.

“Ah, yes!” Rey agrees readily, offering a tight smile to the man behind the counter who hands her three ration bars. “But I’m leaving after lunch.”

The master frowns as she directs Rey over to a nearby table head that is as of yet, unoccupied. Without knowing much about Jedi etiquette Rey opts to sit down and the master follows suit, still holding a frown, though her expression is now more concerned than surprised.

“That is unfortunate. I had thought that you’d want to stay around for a while and learns the ways of the Jedi.”

This proposition would be wonderful – has Rey not been displaced in time and working against the clock to get to Ben. She cannot dwindle around the timeline and she definitely cannot stay.

So, she offers an apologetic smile, quietly stuffing the ration bars in a pocket.

“It sounds like a wonderful proposition, but it’s impossible for me to stay here any longer.” Without really meaning to, Rey’s face immediately falls when her thoughts turn in Ben’s direction again. “I have to find him.”

The Jedi master hums, without heat or accusation. “Him. The other one of your dyad.”

“Yes.” Rey agrees, eyes downcast to the scratched surface of the table.

A hand falls on her head and she startles, wide eyed and surprised by the master’s actions. The older woman holds a patient smile on her face, yet her eyes are warm and full of reassurance.

“I’m so happy for you, Rey. Never stray from your intended path. This is the only advice I can offer off the top of my head.”

Rey grins at the wink thrown in her direction and nods. The older woman pats her head once more before she rises elegantly from the table.

“I will inform the Council of your departure.” She says before Rey can open her mouth. “Please leave it to me.”

Overcome with gratitude, Rey bows her head, her fingers twisting in the long tunic she wears.

“Thank you for everything!”

The Jedi master nods once, and Rey watches her retreat and makes sure that she inhales her first of the ration bars at a speed that won’t seem suspicious. Her eyes flit about the room, half attentive at what is happening around her. There is an unusual clamor today, but then again, it’s midday on Coruscant and even the late risers have had time to arrive.

Rey studies the talkative groups settled at the tables, hers and the ones surrounding her. They seem so normal, kids and adults and every age in between, chatting about nothing and everything. There are wisps of conversations she catches, but the subjects are either entirely foreign to her or are confirmed banalities. The Jedi still divide in small groups, most with beings of closer ages but there are exceptions.

Like the trio that just fell away from the food line, each one holding a modest serving on their plates. They are two human males and the Togruta woman she saw on the council, and they are all so incredibly tall, even the young teenager, when Rey herself is considered _tall_.

The woman has her head turned, deep into conversation with the long haired man and they certainly look old and grand enough to be Master Jedi. Unlike the teenager, who still sports a grimace on his face as he inspects the contents of his plate, half-heartedly searching by himself for empty seats. He leads the two masters around the room and Rey sees that their movement is tangent on her direction, so she quickly tidies up her mess by crumpling the wrapper of her meager meal and discreetly swiping the table of any crumbs.

The red haired boy is closing in on her and he’s sporting the most peculiar haircut Rey has ever seen. His hair is shaved, but he still keeps a short ponytail and one braid curling behind his ear and brushing his shoulder. There are other children like this around the room and the Temple, but Rey has simply brushed off their peculiar style of wearing their hair. Now, she thinks that there’s something more to it. Especially if only children wear it.

Rey ponders this as she pointedly slides away from the table and throws the empty wrapper at one of the numerous trash bins around the room. When she turns back around, she finds the trio settled in her previous seat and she subtly smiles as she makes her way toward the majestic double doors. On the way out, she thinks upon her observations as she’s been pushed to, time and time again. That child was with a Master and she saw that other children were, too. Rey is ignorant to many Jedi traditions, but she knows this one. Hell, the whole galaxy knows this one.

These kids must be the padawans. And if that is true, then this is their signature hairstyle.

Rey bites on her lower lip, trying to hold in her giggle and the accompanying grin that threatens to bloom on her face as the mental image of one young Ben Solo, having to sacrifice his luscious curls as he is pressured into sporting this Force-awful style, develops in her mind. She cannot, for the life of her, imagine Ben ever agreeing to it, his uncle’s demands or not. Rey also kind of doubts that Luke would have really insisted, since the old master himself was not pushed into a such thing either.

The thought of the dead – the _living_ , _kriff_ damn it – brings about a sobering wave of pain that tugs at her heart. Rey hurries her steps and sees nothing but the front, official entrance and the blinding daylight outside.

There is a visible increase in activity around the Temple, Rey observes curiously, as she makes her way around the front and onto one of the sidewalks, followed by catwalks and so on. The path is long and twisting, but Rey concentrates only on the tug of the bond. She has no idea where it is taking her, but it would have lasted an eternity to search all of Coruscant for that one, fleeting image she remembers from her vision. Rey will have better luck risking it all and trusting in their shattered bond to act as a guide.

The path leads her through a labyrinth of buildings, a patchwork of shops and beings hurrying through their daily lives and chores and Rey sidesteps them all, calm and sure in her steps. Yet, she’s as much of an unsteady mess inwardly as the world around her, struggling with just living.

Rey takes it all in, the megalopolis that simply goes on and on forever, just like she seems to do, as she boards countless overcrowded turbolifts and climbs more stairs than she’s ever done in her whole life. And this is just to traverse this one level. It’s hard without a speeder, when most of the ground is just one big building after another.

_When the Mortis Gods decided to drop Rey smack in the middle of the biggest city in the known galaxy, they did not count on the fact that Rey might actually be predisposed to an amazing anxiety attack when she found herself surrounded by a horizon of urban life and concrete. Her experience with planets ended when the population numbers threatened to rise above the term ‘slightly deserted’, so the collective life force of a trillion beings assaulting her mind from the moment she opened her eyes was just too much for Rey’s overwhelmed senses that she all but lost consciousness again._

She is starting to get used to Coruscant though, and Rey decides that it’s high time she gets off this miserable planet. Being surrounded by an ocean of sand was awful, but being surrounded by so much life yet _not,_ so much chaos and misery, is infinitely more stressful to her overworked mind. Rey cannot, in good conscience, understand how all these sensitive Jedi can live in this overly crowded conglomerate without being constantly nursing headaches at the least.

By the time Rey breaks back to level 5127, the sky opens up in a blue expanse sprinkled with clouds and she is startled out of her thoughts by a passing group of different species. They are being loud enough to be heard over the general ruckus of the city and Rey wanders around them as she watches them shouting and walking in circles, working to figure out what this is all about.

The buildings in this neighborhood are more intricately designed than the ones who have kept her company until now and ooze an air of grandeur she is certainly not accustomed with. At a glance, each one looks completely out of place next to its surroundings, but Rey supposes that the architects had to have some kind of plan when devising this rather lavish area.

Rey follows the bond, careful not to look the same as she feels – completely and utterly out of place. There are important looking beings here, with clothes made of the finest of materials and sparkling jewels at their necks or on their heads that speak of immense wealth.

Some sit in hoverchairs and after a glance, all of them are surrounded by at least two or three other beings, fussing and launching inquiries at abnormal speeds as their leader conducts the conversation. Rey can barely keep her mind from scrambling when she catches wisps of their conversation and she would probably implode if she’d have to be subjugated to something like this.

A large holoprojector is installed in her path. When it senses her invading its two meters sensor array, the device lights up with the figure of an unknown woman. She is dressed in fine, but plain beige robes, with a voluminous hairstyle and three rows of necklaces that would probably buy Rey the largest farm on Tatooine. They would surely buy her a quarter of Jakku.

The woman smiles beatifically, the bluish tinge dousing any lively charade out of her. Her eyes are made to be kind and her smile welcoming, but Rey only feels like she’s being watched by a predator, inviting her to get lost in this graveyard of a city.

“Welcome to the Senate District! You are currently walking through the Ambassadorial Sector! I am your guide to this neighborhood-“

Without letting the woman finish any preprogrammed explanation she might recite, Rey turns on her heels and books it out of the holoprojector’s range. Her mind whirls as the pieces finally fall together, in an approximation of a completed puzzle.

She is in the Senate’s district, which means that these fancy beings are actual official persons, like Senators and Councilors and… other stuff Rey is sure exists but doesn’t know the name of. Embarrassingly, she never bothered to understand more about politics and forms of government and whatnot, especially when she’s lived all her life without the influence of any form of leadership, be it either the Empire or the Republic. The only things she does know come from Leia and from scraped information from conversations or the holonet.

The bond directs her deeper into the sector and it apparently expects her to carve a path through the transparisteel orb in her way. Looking around for another way, Rey steels herself and decides to take some side streets and small alleyways snaking around to the large building. Walking down the dirty asphalt, Rey feels suddenly claustrophobic, like the narrow street can swallow her whole and leave no trace behind. She stutters to a stop when she gets to the mouth of the alley, eyes wide in surprise.

The tight passage opens into a small plaza and Rey all but gapes at the beautiful arrangement of the limited space.

There are two caf shops, settled on opposite sides of the open space, their terraces cluttered with small tables where a few groups of patrons huddle around, steaming cups in front of them. The rest of the small shopfronts are decorated with bright paraphernalia over the wall-length windows, co colorful, they are staggering. Quietly stumbling forward, Rey spies flowers and crystal balls among many other things she has no name for.

She’s never seen such lovely looking shops before, bright in the lazy sunlight that hits the ornaments in such a way, it creates a wonderful painting of sparkling stars.

Rey is so taken in by the banality of such a wonderful picture that she does not notice the rest of the plaza until she is quite literally standing in the middle of it. There are stone benches, perched into a circle around a small fountain that Rey takes a moment to inspect, because she’s never seen such a thing either. The statue is rough to the touch, and, as she drags one finger over the rim of it, her eyes take in the large carved flower that looks to her like a strangely misshapen rose. But Rey is sure that this is not the case. It must be a subspecies of the common rose she is familiar with. 

The clamor around her registers gradually inside her mind, and Rey blinks when the sounds suddenly come into sharp focus. No one glances in her direction, but she can sense some fleeting curiosity from a couple of patrons, more observant than their fellow customers.

Rey glances back down at the crystalline water, disturbed only by the falling of more water that seeps through the petals of the rose and into the basin. She dips a finger in and it is a wonderful refreshing feeling to her overloaded senses. It brings her a certain sort of single-minded focus that helps Rey break away from the trance she is under because of her surroundings.

Under normal circumstances, Rey would be thrilled at discovering new places, new things, new feelings, but right now her circumstances are far from normal. She needs to get out of here, without getting distracted every step of the way.

The bond tugs ceaselessly at her mind and Rey dutifully follows this feeling out of the plaza and into another set of alleyways that end up opening on a large boulevard. She hardly has time to take in her new surroundings because the feeling deepens, as if getting angrier and Rey all but jogs the rest of the way to her destination.

There is a building straight ahead, but when she makes to cut around it, the bond insists that she must _go inside_. This does make her stop and stare at the small complex. It is almost funny how much smaller this building is when compared to the towering mega-building on which it seems to rest.

The exterior of the construction is unremarkable by any standards, but there is something almost charming about it, Rey notes when she stops to inspect it.

There are a few balconies scattered in front of a couple of wide glass doors, but otherwise the rest of the framed windows are small. There are laced curtains shielding them and it’s a very old tradition to keep when shutters are mostly implemented within the window itself nowadays.

Rey counts eight floors, but they must be more because she cannot figure out what such a small building – _house_? – is doing in this neighborhood. What attracts her attention then, and raises her suspicions, is the pair of guards pacing in front of the ornate double doors.

The bond tugs insistently and Rey’s eyes narrow accordingly on her newest target. Figures that she needs to sneak into a strange, possibly important building in the Ambassadorial Sector, of all neighbourhoods.

“Wait, this is an _embassy_?” Against her will, the words escape her mouth and dissolve into the polluted atmosphere.

The conclusion does not sit well with her, but Rey cannot dawdle around here either. She needs to find Ben and she also has to do it without being arrested or having to run away from the two guards, who might find her very suspicious just gaping at the embassy they protect.

No, she needs to walk up to them first, before they start asking her questions.

“Hello! Apologies, but where am I?”

No, Rey will be the one who is asking the questions with a sweet, serene smile and an innocent expression over her face.

The two human men exchange a look before the one on her right answers in a clipped, but otherwise amiable tone.

“This is the Embassy of Alderaan.”

Oh, this.

This is _not good._

“Can we help you with anything, miss?” The guard on the left asks moderately, though there is a warning edge to his words that, were Rey a civilian, wouldn’t have caught it.

Or maybe it’s just her crippling paranoia talking.

Rey keeps her smile tightly locked in place, even if the muscles around her mouth are starting to strain. She only has one chance and being polite will not accomplish anything. Truth be told, Rey is surprised that she was even allowed to walk up to the front doors in the first place, looking as ragged and unimportant as she does.

A young woman, harried from years of living in the desert by herself and then from fighting in a galaxy-wide war, almost dying more times than she can try to count. And then having everything she’s ever wanted taken from her grasp. It is a wonder that her overly long, tangled hair and gaunt form permitted her entry in the district at all.

The way of the Force it is, Rey decides decisively. A split-second decision, really, but it might either serve her well or serve her a prison sentence. Either way, she is getting into this building.

“I am here with the cleaning crew, but I got delayed. You will let me pass so I can return to work and not get fired.”

She tries to make the hand movement more surreptitious than it usually is, but her words are still full of conviction as she pushes onto the Force surrounding the men. They take a painfully long moment to process her request, but to her supreme luck, they part with twin nods and open the doors for her.

Rey’s steps are immediately muffled on a dark yellow carpet that reminds her of the color of Jakku’s sunset, and she hurriedly steps around the various benches and statues displayed in the reception hall, unsure where she needs to go. Instead of getting into the turbolift, Rey opts to climb on the set of stairs build into the wall because there is no need to appear more suspicious than she presently is. She keeps an eye out for any stray signatures, but nothing registers in the Force beside distant sparks, located in other parts of the embassy.

She arrives on the third floor, breathless and swearing off stairs for the rest of her life. There is a corridor spanning to both sides, going the length of the building. Rey checks the bond and is reassured that going left is a good option. She passes numerous doors that luckily remain closed and impersonal pockets of space filled with low caf tables and pampered couches that, from afar, appear a comfortable setting for intimate, official talks.

Every piece of furniture and decoration is in warm tones, giving Rey a somewhat cozy feeling, even in the middle of committing a felony. Her senses are abruptly assaulted by the bond again and it is acting more agitated than she’s ever experienced it. Rey carefully peeks around the corner and finds an open door, the room beyond empty and inviting her inside.

What she finds in the dim space is far from an ostentatious space and it cannot even be called an office. It looks like one of those rooms that she’s only read about on the holonet. The ones you can find in big houses owned by rich people. There is another set of couches that form a perfect square in the middle. A pretentious table with carved legs and a sloping desktop occupies the free space between them and around the room, dark wood furniture is stacked tastefully.

Gently touching the closest piece with her palm, Rey studies the wooden cabinet, intrigued. The surface is devoid of dust but is instead filled with trinkets and small statues, most probably of alderaanian gods. She turns her head to the other side and sees shelves full of books on the other side of the room.

Rey all but jumps at the chance because, besides the old Jedi texts that are incredibly tattered and worn out by time up to a point where she is too afraid to touch them, Rey has never seen nor held a real book before.

She is in the midst of taking a full step forward, a gasp filled with wonder gathering at the base of her throat, when she catches voices coming from down the hallway. Almost at the same time, her senses catch onto the two approaching presences.

Rey remains shock still, not daring to breathe.

The signatures stop somewhere outside the room and entirely too close for comfort.

“ _My apologies for the delay! The documents were a pain to complete_.” There is a man’s laugh accompanying this remark and the other person – another man – snickers. The accent sounds decidedly not from Coruscant.

“ _I cannot presume to understand the hardships of filling paperwork, Senator Organa. Please leave it to me to properly distribute them, though!_ ”

Rey’s eyes widen at the name and she almost steps into the doorway, in full view to a rapid damnation. She wants to catch a glimpse of this _Senator Organa_ , but then her brain finally, _really_ registers that the voice is decidedly not female.

But Senator Organa means Senator _Leia_ _Organa_ _Solo_.

In this timeline, it also means this man apparently.

Rey takes stock of her surroundings, as if to remind herself that this is real. A corner of the cabinet digs into her back and it’s all the hint to the veracity of this situation that she needs. She is in the past and, following that logic, this is not Leia. Maybe it is a distant relative or maybe it’s her… father?

_Adoptive father._

Leia did mention that she grew up on Alderaan and that she was actually the crown princess, the next in line for to rule. Rey can just recall the childish wonder she felt when the realization that she was in the presence of a _real_ princess hit her. Eyes surely sparkling, she gapes as Leia laughed out loud at Rey’s reaction to the revelation.

Leia Organa, _princess of Alderaan_. The woman grew up in _a palace._ On a planet that she described as being basically _paradise_.

Rey would give anything to visit it, but it’s been destroyed long ago in her time, and today is not the time to hijack a ship to Alderaan. She has one Ben Solo to find. Who, on second thought, is a _kriffing_ prince himself.

 _The prince of Alderaan_.

This sobering thought does stop her mind from whirling over long lost memories and brings her back to reality with a crash. The discussion is still ongoing outside the door, and Rey is more than blessed at this point to not have been found out yet.

Incredibly, this is the first time she has ever associated Ben with anything princely, and it seems like quite a disquieting look on him, especially because it makes Rey feel like she is completely inadequate when compared to him.

Rey is no one – _no one_ – and she will remain like that for the rest of her life.

The set of voices comes closer and Rey knows that there is no escape for her this time. The sharp contour of the cabinet sends a grim reminder of her current position and the circumstances are not favorable to say the least.

Rey turns around and tries to find something to _steal_ at least, make it seem like this was her objective in the first place. But then she comes face to face with a familiar figure. Not familiar in the way that she’s ever met the person, but familiar because she’s seen this face before, back on Lothal. She’s touched this power before because it has reached out to her first. And Rey knows that this young woman is the same as the one in that painting, even if some of the details on her face are skewered by the small scale rendering of the statue.

In the same moment that Senator Organa and his companion draw up by the door, the Force pulls tight around her and Rey pushes back out of a long-standing reflex as she clamps a hand around the surprisingly cool stone of the statue.

Then everything goes stately white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Level 5127](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Level_5127)   
>  [Senate District](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Federal_District)   
>  [Ambassadorial Sector](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Ambassadorial_Sector)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back and guess who's back with me...?👀 (hint: a big baby boy)
> 
> Big thanks to freestyle_tears!

* * *

It’s an awful feeling, like drowning but in the void of space. His lungs fill with nothing. Every muscle in his body freezes and every organ ceases to function until he cannot feel anything but the lightweight feeling of floating. He tries to open his eyes, but there is nothing but galaxies imprinted on his retina.

One moment he’s floating in space, surrounded by a hundred billion twinkling stars and the next second he looks up and sees an unknown sun with the brightest light he has ever seen. Maybe he floated too close to the gaseous star, but he cannot really say that it was by his own will.

He feels an unsettling jerk at some point when even the light of the approaching star is dimmer than before and then he’s travelling through hyperspace, and he has to close his eyes because it’s worse than being near that sun. He doesn’t know how much time he spends in there but at some point, before he loses consciousness, he thinks he hears his mother’s voice, calling from somewhere far, far away.

And then there’s another draw and heave from the Force and he’s freefalling towards nothingness.

* * *

**KASHYYYK**

Ben groans against the backdrop of light, at a traumatizing intensity even with his eyes tightly closed.

He turns his head, intent on using his pillow as a shield against that awful brightness and sleep away the rest of the day, but there’s a strange sound his movement makes, a rustling that has no place here.

He finds that his pillow also smells funny and to his enormous surprise, his hands hurt and every muscle in his body screams against every breath he takes. Ben frowns, still stubbornly keeping his eyes closed, and now that his senses are starting to thaw from wherever he was that’s been keeping them numb, he realizes that the funny smell is one of his least favorite ones.

Medbay, he concludes with a scrunch of his nose and he catches a pair of footfalls somewhere in the distance. He checks on the Force, but there’s no one important that he recognizes, bumbling around in some other room.

He does get a strange feeling from the web of energy around him, like a nudge to get his attention and Ben frowns again. He despises having the Force tell him what to do, but he also has enough experience dealing with it that he might as well listen and get up.

Something doesn’t feel right, not when his mind joins in and insists that he ought to be doing something else than lying around.

Someone whispers in the distance and they drag a chair over the floor. Ben is ready to jump from his bed and skewer their asses for making his ears bleed, but the screeching chair transforms into a pained scream and suddenly Ben’s breath is stuck in his throat. A flash of recognition passes, and he remembers something important.

He remembers that he should be dead. Not quite buried, but dead nonetheless.

Ben is back on Exegol in his mind’s eye and he sees Rey’s cold body on the ground. He wants to scream again. He takes a shuddering gulp of air and tries to convince himself that it worked, that he managed to use the Force to bring her back.

The memory of their kiss is there to reassure him of his success and also remind him that he’s now officially lost everything and his life. Most importantly, he lost her.

Because he is dead, he remembers it clearly and can almost feel the phantom feeling of his muscles giving up, of his heart slowing down until Ben could count every fading beat. He hated himself in that moment and it was a familiar pattern to fall into in that split second before her eyes clouded with confusion and tears, and Ben decided to just enjoy studying her face while he still could. Because he knows that it will be some time before he can touch her again.

At least as a Force ghost, he might be able to watch over her somehow. Perfunctorily, Ben wonders how the whole ghost shtick works. He seems to be able to sleep, which is somewhat redundant to him because he is _kriffing_ dead. So why was he asleep in the first place?

Which reminds him – why is he in a medbay of all things?

Being dead isn’t really what he had imagined, considering the brutal pain attacking malevolently from all sides. Then there’s the problem with the strange sounds of activity he keeps hearing from the other room.

Ben doesn’t know how he even figured that it’s coming from another room. He just intuited it in the Force, but that makes no sense. He fervently hopes that the Force ghost dimension or whatever, is not going to be a rerun of all the nightmarish landscapes he hates with a passion.

When something clatters to the ground, Ben uses the startling sound to force his body into moving. His eyes snap open and his eyesight is a blur, but that does not deter him from rising in his bed and almost toppling to the ground in his haste to get up.

The room comes into focus soon enough and Ben’s brows climb on his forehead. It’s a standard medbay, nothing more and nothing less. He’s in a military medbay, judging from the cramped space and drawn, dreary curtains surrounding his bed.

Ben catches the outline of someone else on the bed next to his before the door to the room draws open and someone steps through with heavy footfalls. It’s a human male in a white coat and Ben tries very hard not to glare at the doctor when he draws the curtain back without much preamble.

The man does not seem to be perturbed by the sight of him, half out of bed and slightly glaring in his direction. He flips through the pages clamped to his clipboard with an analytical gaze and barely glances in Ben’s direction as he starts speaking.

“Your injuries were quite severe, but nothing life threatening.”

Count Ben as baffled by the ‘not life threatening’ part.

“You have three bruised ribs, several bad scrapes and a twisted ankle. Besides those, bruises galore and gashes, but that’s about it.”

He’d like to actually stop the man and ask him to elaborate on that, because the doctor can count his injuries all that he wants and Ben won’t get it. He is fucking dead.

_Isn’t he_.

“Now I’d recommend more bedrest,” the man’s eyes narrow and Ben realizes how uncomfortable his position really is, “but you seem to be one of the stubborn ones.”

And his tone is resigned, if a little aggravated.

“So, if you don’t wish to be administered a good dose of sedatives, you should at least continue with the bedrest for the rest of today.”

Ben purses his lips and hesitantly slides back into bed. He waits for the man to finish his speech impatiently.

The doctor watches him guardedly in return. “We’d also like you to answer a few questions about your identity and what you were doing in the middle of an active battlefield.”

Trying to kill the big bad and save the love of his life, amongst other things. Ben is seriously starting to wonder if these people have been living under a rock. But considering that he should be dead, Ben figures that they’ve been living under a Force rock.

“Someone will come by later and get it out of you, don’t worry.” The doctor says dismissively when Ben forwards no voluntary answers.

“Where am I?”

For a Force ghost, his voice sure is scratchy. Ben wonders if the bluish tint is only visible between the living and the dead and not between the dead and dead. How is this man, with such a small presence in the Force, able to be a Force ghost in the first place?

Maybe he is not a Force ghost, but simply a ghost. No one said there weren’t other ghosts inside the flow of the Force, but maybe they are not powerful enough to interact with the living. Otherwise, Ben thinks that it will be quite the clusterfuck of dead relatives tormenting their living ones.

Ben surely cannot sympathize, seeing as his dead relatives didn’t deem it important enough to show up for even one second of their afterlives to give him advice or reassurance. He sure as hell won’t be visiting them now.

_Maybe only his grandmother. And his dad._

The doctor’s eyes shut for a moment before he answers Ben’s question.

“New Republic medical frigate.”

And isn’t that just a chilling thought? ‘New Republic’ sends Ben thinking of his mother, whom he also felt dying. Just a damn moment ago, the New Republic wasn’t there anymore.

“New Republic?” Ben frowns and wonders whether there’s a political system in the Force ghost world. He hopes fucking not.

“Yes,” the doctor drawls and looks to him with a higher level of concern than before, “New Republic frigate over Kashyyyk. The year is 4 ABY.”

Despite the tone of his voice being somewhat reticent and sarcastic, the man watches Ben closely for any reaction that he might show.

Unfortunately, Ben is too trained to show any outward signal that the notion literally brought his mindscape to a complete halt. His jaw clenches as a myriad of useless thoughts filter through his head, full of shock and denial. The fourth year after the battle of Yavin is one year before he’s technically born.

How the fuck is he in 4 ABY? Is the ghost realm in another time? But that doesn’t seem feasible.

So, and Ben’s eyes widen marginally at the implication, he’s not dead and he was somehow sent to the past. It doesn’t make much sense, but Ben doubts that the poor doctor will have any answers for the questions he wants to ask. He will need to find someone else.

“How did I get up here?”

The doctor looks somewhat annoyed at the lack of dramatic response towards his current situation.

“General Solo found you and brought you here to be treated.”

Ben feels all his muscles seize up at the information. His fists clench in the thin blanket his legs are covered with. How in the nine blazes did _that_ happen?

Granted, it was the Force he’s counting on, so Ben shouldn’t be surprised at all. _Kriffing_ bastard all-encompassing energy of the universe.

Ben exhales shakily and leans back against the head of his bed. He closes his eyes, as much a dismissive gesture to the doctor as it is a calming strategy for his mind’s incessant struggles to just _understand_.

He barely hears the footsteps receding as he focuses on his breathing. For the first time in a long time, Ben lets his mind open just a tad more and falls into a light state of meditation.

* * *

He doesn’t know how long he stays like that, just that it’s not helping at all. Ben is more frustrated than anything else when his eyes blink open again. He finds that he’s not alone this time either.

A yawn comes from the bed next to his, followed by groggy muttering and incessant moving on the bed. It’s as irritating as it is distracting him and Ben’s reluctantly thankful for the diversion, because the longer he succumbs to the apparent despair of being in the fucked up past, the more he feels the lingering Dark Side pat him on the shoulder.

Maybe what he felt in the end was not really dying. Somehow, he was sent here, wherever the hell here was. He remembers his mother talking at some point – did she have anything to do with this? A last, half-assed attempt to save her dying son?

But sending him to the _past_? How can anyone even start to attempt a shot at that?

_Kriffing_ hell, he has no idea how to start searching for answers. It’s worse when he remembers that they, whoever the hell they are right at this moment, will be coming to _him_ and expecting to receive some. Which will be quite complicated.

Ben knows a lot about these years and especially about the New Republic’s rise to power, but he doubts that any reading of the future will be received with anything more than a direct trip to a mental care institution. Damn.

There’s another grunt and the curtain separating his bed from the rest moves. Ben certainly hopes that the other patient won’t start a _kriffing_ conversation right when he’s at his most unstable.

“You up, kid?”

There’s that gruff voice that he can distinguish from a million others. Fucking Force hell.

“Surprised that you are.” Han Solo shifts on his bed again and the furniture creaks with the movement. “You were a sorry sight to encounter. I thought you’d be out of it for a while longer.”

These kinds of injuries were nothing Ben hasn’t dealt with before, but Han Solo does not need to know that. Actually, he doesn’t need to know anything.

He still has Ben’s gratitude, though.

“Thanks for saving me.”

And he packs in there all the painful lessons and regrets he’s been harboring for so many years. It’s everything he’s been wanting to say to his dad, for helping him not once but twice and steering him towards the right path. Not once, but twice. Insistently and by his own damn self.

Han doesn’t speak for a moment, seemingly sensing the weight of the statement, but then he glides over it. Ben wonders if he really figured something out or is just surprised by the level of sincerity coming from a complete stranger.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome.” The former smuggler says offhandedly and Ben can just imagine Han waving a hand in embarrassed dismissal. “Just don’t do it again, ‘cause I probably won’t be there next time!”

And isn’t that just a dose of cold water over his head? Ben wants nothing more than to figure this shit out.

“Yeah.”

It’s the only thing he allows, but Han seems to be in a talkative mood today.

“How did you even get on Kashyyyk, kid? Don’t you know how to avoid an active warzone?”

Ben snorts and rather dryly thinks that no, he definitely does not know how to avoid a warzone. He grew up in a constant warzone – both literally and metaphorically.

“I don’t know.” Ben says with as much sincerity as he’s capable of conveying.

This stops Han short because he certainly does not expect his rescuee to have amnesia. But then again, when were things ever easy?

“Well,” Han tries to be optimistic at least, “I’m sure that you will figure it out.”

Ben nods against his better judgement. He wants to be as hopeful as his dad is, but right now he’s panicked and in a state of frenzy because of the situation.

Having more questions than answers sucks, but that can probably be considered the story of Ben’s life, so what is new?

Ben can do this. He can go back to her. To Rey.

The mental image he conjures of her beautiful face is enough to give him the strength he needs.

“I will.”

Han hums and settles back down on his bed, seemingly satisfied, but now it’s Ben’s turn to ask some questions.

“What’s the situation down there?”

Han is silent for a moment. “Still bad, but it’s getting better. We’re almost there.”

Ben certainly catches the plea and the selfish declaration, all packed into one. His dad obviously cannot wait for this war to be over and Ben, maybe for the first time ever, _understands_.

“I’m glad to hear that.” He allows, absently playing with the fraying edges of his standard issue military blanket. “I’m sure you guys are all but ready to get back to your families.”

He doesn’t know what spurned him to say that. Ben finds it rather masochistic that he has pointed the discussion in this particular direction because he knows that whatever Han’s answer will be, _it will hurt._

“More than you know, kid.” Han readily agrees. “I recently found out that I’m gonna be a dad! Still feels surreal.” His voice is breathy and awed, and Ben’s fingers twist painfully into the scratchy material of his blanket and he breathes through his nose, heart in his throat.

It hurts like hell.

“That’s great.” His tone is anything but excited, though.

He catches Han’s movement on the other side and Ben panics for a second because his dad is about to draw the curtain separating their beds open.

“You-“

The curtain is half drawn and Han Solo’s young face comes into view with a dizzying effect to Ben’s psyche, but then the door slides open again.

Ben catches three people enter, all wearing the fledging New Republic uniform that is, at this point, something thrown together to seem uniting but without any regard for fashion. He doesn’t know them, but Han throws the trio an irritated glare as he sinks back in his bed.

“Admiral, captains.”

Ben watches as they advance, lacking the real discipline a First Order officer usually holds. They stop exactly in front of his bed, but their eyes are fixed on his dad.

“General Solo.” The Admiral leading the party greets with a shallow bow of his head. His companions follow before they all finally turn in Ben’s direction.

“We are here to interrogate the man you rescued.”

Han snorts softly, but purses his lips and Ben sees that there won’t be any interjection from his dad. Thankfully, these people aren’t Force sensitive, so Ben can lie his heart out if he wants to.

“Let’s begin, shall we?” The Admiral asks more out of common courtesy than really asking for Ben’s opinion on the matter. “Please state your name and age.”

That’s a simple one, at least.

“Ben, thirty years old by human standards.”

The Admiral’s eyes narrow. “Ben who?”

“Ben no one.” He shrugs and now he certainly knows how Rey felt when everyone kept asking her to be related to someone. What’s the problem with someone being a no one again?

“It’s just Ben.”

“Alright just Ben,” the Admiral tries and fails to be a funny man, “what were you doing in an active warzone on Kashyyyk?”

Ben’s not quite sure what he was doing there either and he’s also uncertain what state his father found him in. If he’s been teleported (transported? Brought over? Flashed in? _Portaled over_?) to Kashyyyk, then he probably landed somewhere at random. The question is – did his dad catch him being teleported in by the damn Force, or did he just find him like that by mistake?

Ben will assume that Han found him after he’s been brought over, because if his dad was a spectator to some Force mumbo jumbo, then this would be the first thing out of his mouth when he found Ben up and running.

“Honestly? I’m not sure.” Obviously, his answer receives some strong glares, but Ben expected it. “I was attacked by pirates in the neighboring system and they beat me up and probably decided to dump me in an active warzone instead of killing me. Like a bad joke, you know?”

Ben certainly hopes that they will buy his garbage story. He certainly does not want to have to use the Force mind control on these three, especially with his dad in the room. He cannot and will not use the Force to influence his father, no matter the circumstances.

“And why did they attack you?” One of the captains drawl, apparently deciding to humor Ben.

“I owed them a hefty sum of credits for some time now.” It’s the easiest answer in the world, to place the blame on money. Ben makes a show of grimacing in something that should be regret and embarrassment. “I kept telling them that I’d pay up, but you know.”

The Admiral huffs audibly and throws him another glare. Han smirks.

“Do you have any family?”

“No.”

“Did they fight in the war?”

“Yes,” one war, two wars, but who is counting at this point, “and they’re all dead now.” Ben wishes some of them good riddance while he still mourns two or three of them, depending on the day of the week.

The upper echelons of the New Republic at least have the decency to drop their gazes to the floor for a hot second. His dad’s reaction is the most discernible. The man is suddenly angry and indignant on Ben’s behalf.

“You are not a soldier, yes?”

“I was, but not anymore.”

“Where do you live now?”

“Chandrila.” He doesn’t know why he says that, but it’s basically the first planet that pops in Ben’s mind.

The Admiral steps back and his body visibly relaxes. Ben allows himself a small breath in relief, now that the interrogation is apparently over with. It wasn’t _that_ bad.

“Thank you for your cooperation.”

Ben figures that they will have to take his words at face value because the New Republic is in enough disarray that it would be a _kriffing_ pain to start verifying the credibility of his story now. It would also be ridiculously expensive, a massive waste of time and resources and fucking stupid. So, he’s safe, for now.

“Unfortunately, there is no civilian transport leaving anytime soon, so you will be stuck here for a few more days at least.”

This time, Ben wants nothing more than to bash his head against the wall. Of course, there isn’t any damned transport to whisk him out of this shit fest.

There’s a moment of awkward silence during which Ben laments his situation. He thankfully registers the shifty expressions on their faces before things get even more awkward.

“Right.”

Han seemingly takes pity on him because he looks up to the Admiral.

“I can take him over there, Admiral. I’m supposed to leave for Chandrila tomorrow anyways.”

Whether they wanted to keep Ben under closer surveillance or not, the Admiral does not forward any protest. Instead, he looks considerably happier to get rid of the extra passenger.

“If you are sure General, then I will authorize it.” The Admiral turns to Ben for one last look before he heads for the exit, closely followed by the two captains. “Good day, gentlemen.”

The moment the door swishes closed, Han throws his arms up and scoffs.

“’ _I will authorize it’_ , my ass! I’m the _kriffing_ highest in command!”

Ben’s mouth tugs into a smirk at the credible rendering of the overly stiff man his dad made before the whole weight of the ordeal settles in his mind. He then proceeds to panic again.

“You really don’t have to give me a ride to Chandrila-“

“Save it, kid!”

Han waves his hand and interrupts him before he protests any further. Ben is somewhat struck by the fact that Han is calling him a kid when he’s not really that much younger than him in this timeline.

“I said I’m taking you there and I damn will!”

Despite it being close to a kidnapping, Ben is glad to be able to get off this ship and out of the possible line of fire. While he’s somewhat anxious to spend the lengthy journey to Chandrila in his father’s company, Ben knows that it could have been much, _much_ worse. He could be dead, for all his efforts.

He still doesn’t get how he’s not, but he will take what he can get.

* * *

Ben doesn’t dare to even breath properly until he steps inside the _Millenium Falcon_. His attention is diverted from the stifling atmosphere of the New Republic frigate starship and the imminent approach of his dad and the Admiral by (inarguably) his second home.

The gangplank groans under his weight from the first damn step he places on it and something in the patchwork of durasteel gives way as well as gives up, it seems. Ben winces as he gingerly extracts the tip of his boot from the small hole he made and decides to not say anything about it. He does not want to have to stay here a moment longer for such insignificant repairs.

A bout of nostalgia shimmies its way into his chest and he allows a discrete smile to show for the piece of lovable junk that never seems to change. The interior is maybe a little better than he remembers from his repressed childhood memories, but everything still looks and smells the same to him. Home sweet home and all of that.

There’s no Chewie in sight and Ben wonders about the Wookie’s whereabouts, but decides that asking will occur only if the moment is favorable. It won’t do to seem overly suspicious – especially more than he already is.

He can feel Han’s ire as he fights to dismiss the Admiral and get on with his life. Ben has long since made himself comfortable around the dejarik table when his dad’s heavy footsteps close in and the man enters the main hold with a monumental scowl on his face. Judging from the frustration pouring into the Force around him, Ben blithely ponders that he is glad to not see a blaster with a smoking barrel in his dad’s hand.

Han stops when he sees him sitting there, as if he forgot that he has another passenger to deal with, but he swiftly deflates and turns for the tunnel to the cockpit.

“Make yourself comfortable.” His dad says with a lofty wave of his hand and Ben’s mouth stretches into a sly grin.

“Thanks. Do you need any help?” He calls after Han and, surprisingly, the man’s head pops out from behind the corner.

Han holds a puckered twist to his mouth and his eyes are narrowed.

“You think I can’t handle flying a damn ship, junior?”

Ben bites on his lip and reminds himself that this is not his dad. No matter how much he wants him to be. There’s just no way he’s falling into old, familiar patterns when it is so very important to be someone other than Ben Solo now.

_Oh, the fucking irony._

“No,” Ben answers, carefully controlled, “but I noticed that this is a Corellian YT-1300 light freighter and they usually have two seats at the console which means that you need a co-pilot.”

Han glares but his head disappears, and footsteps resume down the hallway. Against his better judgement, Ben stands up and follows Han to the cockpit. There’re still four seats in the cabin and the console is a little less malfunctioning today. Ben certainly is afraid to see it in thirty years later, after years in the hands of lowlifes.

“If you know what you’re doing, I might consider accepting your help.” His dad comments, in the process of flipping switches. “My co-pilot is currently engaged somewhere else.”

Ben feigns wonder as he slowly approaches the co-pilot seat. “Did something happen to them?”

Han snorts and casts a slightly worried glance to the empty hangar on the other side of the viewport.

“No, he’s just helping his people rebuild their planet.”

Ben’s heart clenches and he all but drops into the seat.

“Ah, so he’s with his family.” He observes, pushing the appropriate set of buttons in the start-up sequence. He keeps his eyes firmly planted on the console under his hands. It feels so much smaller than it was when he was younger and sitting on his dad’s lap.

“Yeah, he took a small vacation.” Han says, clipped and without much emotion and Ben understands that the subject is closed from here on out.

At least he found out about uncle Chewie’s whereabouts and can now depart Kashyyyk’s system with a lighter heart. Chewie will be alright.

Interestingly, the Force offers no clues about whether Ben’s doing worse or better by being here. It’s a null void of silence and it’s alarmingly wonderful, yet it makes Ben feel on edge because every move he makes might be his biggest mistake. What if he pushes the wrong button and they explode? What if he keeps his dad distracted when he should be doing something else, more important?

He isn’t sure if he wants more input from the Force, but he wants at least a _kriffing_ sign. Either way, Ben tries for a reassuring and hopeful overview of the current situation. If the Force forwards no protest, then maybe this is how things went the first time around too and Ben’s just the passenger that glides along the timeline without much interference into it. Which is better than whatever else Ben can hope for.

The engines rumble and Ben’s mouth tightens as he returns from his musings. Han pushes one last switch and Ben flicks two other and turns one knob and then they’re lifting from the ground.

His dad guides the _Falcon_ in a low glide along the hangar and the comm unit crackles with approval for departure. The ship roars into outer space and Ben all but jumps from his chair the second they enter hyperspace.

He makes his way back into the main hold and, with not much to do without seeming overly suspicious, he plops back down at the derajik table and proceeds to glare holes in its scarred surface.

There’s nothing really exciting to do on the _Falcon_ besides repairs on such long voyages, and there’s definitely nothing to do on the _Falcon_ when you’re a guest and, by definition, you cannot just start looking through the cupboards and into the cabins. Ben would like to visit his bunk (not his yet and not his anymore in thirty years’ time, but still his nonetheless) or find something to snack on because the medbay breakfast tray was worse than the food at his dad’s favorite cantina on Coruscant.

How many years has it been, since he last saw the _Falcon_ in earnest? Definitely around the time he left for Skywalker’s temple. His parents brought Ben over in the Falcon, and then his dad paid a few scattered visits with it in the next year but after that, Han either accompanied his mother on her official ship or he didn’t come at all.

_So it was a real shock to Ben, after so many years of thinking the_ Falcon _lost or buried in some shipyard, when he saw it parked on Takodana on that fateful day._

“Caf?” Han barks the moment he steps into the cabin. He heads straight for the little kitchen and Ben follows his tense movements from the comfort of his seat as he tries to gauge the sudden change in attitude.

“Yes, please. A ration bar will also be welcome, if you have any.” He tries to ignore his gurgling stomach because something is seriously off with Han.

Ben literally left him alone for ten minutes and something is already up, _kriffing_ hell. And since they haven’t blown up, it’s got nothing to do with the ship.

Maybe it has something to do with Ben, he realizes with a sinking heart, but Han was still willing to give him a ride this morning, so he doesn’t understand what he did wrong – besides that broken panel on the gangplank. If that is seriously it, Ben will goddamn pay for it after he stops hitting his head on the rundown gameplay table in front of him.

Han offers a noncommittal sound in place of an actual answer and starts rummaging through the numerous cupboards in the small kitchen. He produces two ration bars for Ben and gets the two cups of caf from the counter.

Ben watches him wearily, reaching out to accept his with a tight smile.

Han sips his caf languidly, but never takes his eyes off Ben. Despite it being sufficiently freaky, Ben is too hungry to care right now, so he digs into his meal and waits for his dad to drop the bomb on whatever is bothering him. Years of experience tell him that it’s probably going to be soon, since Han is unusually silent and surreptitiously trying to watch Ben without seeming like a complete creep.

The food’s not bad per se, but Ben inwardly makes a face at the synthetic flavors. He never did enjoy ration supplies, but he supposes that this is what he gets for being endlessly spoiled with the best meals and chefs to prepare them that money can offer. Even at Skywalker’s temple, the food was pretty darn good and the same can be said of Snoke’s citadel. Ben was simply too important of a guest not to treat well. Especially if you wanted to persuade him to the dark side.

There’s a sudden spark in the Force that sets Ben’s every nerve on fire and his head sharply rises to look at his dad.

Han didn’t move an inch from where he’s sitting, but instead of his left hand being curled around his cup like the other, it holds a blaster pointed in Ben’s direction. His dad’s face is cautiously devoid of any emotion, even though his eyes are full of a strange combination of distrust and wariness.

“I need some answers from you, kid.” Han begins and his blaster hand rises to rest on the edge of the table. “’Cause I know that you lied your ass out in front of the Admiral and his two goons.”

Ben’s slowly raises his hands near his head to show that he won’t do anything stupid – like Han is doing right now. What the _kriffing_ Force did Han not believe from his thoroughly fabricated story?

“Alright.” Ben agrees easily. After a lifetime of being a smuggler, his dad obviously knows when someone is lying without having to rely on the Force, but Ben is his son and despite claiming otherwise for a pretty long time, Ben inherited a great many things from him. “What do you want to know?”

It takes Han by surprise that his prisoner is so willing to speak, but Ben knows that it will take more to get his dad’s guard down than simple compliance.

“The truth.” Han jiggles his blaster lightly and Ben wonders if it’s safe to rest his hands on the table. “You definitely weren’t just dropped by pirates on Kashyyyk.” His dad’s eyes suddenly darken with memory and Ben pounces on the prospect of answers.

“Then you saw how I got there?” It might be the most important clue yet. “Was anyone else with you?”

“Hey, hey!” Han’s voice climbs in level and he shakes the weapon again. “I’m the one asking the questions around here!”

“I was unconscious the whole time,” Ben explains, as calmly as he can, “so I have no clue what answer to give you. Maybe if you tell me in what state you found me, I can work something out.”

He holds his breath and hopes that he’s conveying to his dad how important this is. Han seems uncertain for a moment, but then he sighs, relaxing and his back hits the backrest of his seat. The man suddenly looks much, much older.

“I got caught in a stray explosion on Kashyyyk and got thrown on the ground. My ears were ringing, but my eyes caught something through the smoke and the dust.” Han’s mouth tightens at the edges and his jaw clenches harder the longer he speaks. “It was some kind of flash and then something started to,” he snaps his fingers, trying to find the right word, “ _materialize_ from _thin kriffing air_. When I went to get a better look, I found out that it wasn’t something but _someone_ that appeared _._ I found you there,” Han’s gaze meets Ben’s and the former smuggler is suddenly angrier than he is afraid, “on the ground, in your birthday suit and with horrible wounds.”

Despite the precious information that is being provided, Ben is suddenly distressed at the information that he was basically naked and unconscious for the whole damn galaxy to see. _Kriffing_ hell, this was the last thing he needed. He actually tries to sell it to himself that his dad will see – has seen – quite a lot of little Ben running around naked around the house, but years and estrangement add little conviction to his hopeful designations. There is more embarrassment here than anything else really, and Ben is frightfully thankful that it was _his_ _dad_ and not some fucking stranger that found him there. Either way, Ben’s ears take on a reddish hue, but otherwise he tries to direct some order to his reaction.

“I see-“

“So,” Han is back on the offensive again, blaster at the ready and clenched in his hands with white knuckles. His gaze is eternally serious when he asks, “are you one of the Force wizards, too?”

Ben basically chokes on his spit at the wording, but Han doesn’t seem to care that he’s currently dying.

“Aren’t you Luke Skywalker’s best friend?” Ben rasps as he tries the modest approach, because he refuses to say that he’s a _Force wizard_.

Han blinks away the subject change. “Yes I am, so what?”

This may get funnier. “So you’re saying that Luke Skywalker is a Force wizard, too?”

“Hell yes, kid!” Han says matter-of-factly, and it’s hilarious how he doesn’t even need a beat to formulate an answer to that. “With all those mumbo jumbo Force moves.”

Ben tries hard not to laugh so, as a result, he keeps his mouth shut.

It barely passes the ten second mark of silence before Han starts again.

“Well, junior?” This time the blaster is moving back and forth in wild maneuvers and alarmingly close to Ben’s face. “Are you a choirboy in the Force church or not?”

This time Ben is better prepared for the tangle of compliments, but it’s still _kriffing_ funny how Han can say all of that with a straight face. So, Ben laughs, if only because it’s been so fucking long and he doubts that he can form a coherent answer anyways.

Through it all, Han continues to watch him somberly and Ben decides to cut him some slack. If only because he’s given Han enough reasons to shoot him three times already.

“Yes, I am Force sensitive.”

“Good, we’re finally getting somewhere!” Han’s eyebrows are high on his forehead, but his tone is pleased. “How did you get on the planet? Did you Force teleport or something?”

On this point, Ben is conflicted. Not on the _how_ , but on the _should_.

Should he tell his dad the truth? Han shows a high ability to detect lies, but from what little Ben remembers, he usually got away with white lies. Half truths are not lies and Ben can omit something small such as his identity behind a bigger, more staggering revelation. Besides, who can he trust in this world (timeline) the most besides his dad?

Definitely not Luke Skywalker, and even his mom would be a tough nut to crack. He remembers her to be infinitely reticent to any supernatural Force shtick, even if it’s one caused by her own person. His dad would take it in stride and strive to investigate no deeper, more so because Han is hardly Force sensitive.

So, Ben takes a deep breath in and, with his heart in his throat, starts talking.

“I-Probably. I’m not exactly from around here.” He starts smartly and Han snorts. “I’m from thirty years in the future.”

This time his dad’s eyes widen and his brows furrow in relatable confusion as he tries to work it out. This revelation, coupled with Ben’s honest set of eyes, sets Han on a path of cursing his own curiosity.

“Kriff kid, are you sure you’re really alright up there?”

This time it’s Ben who glares. “I’m not insane! I was fighting–“

And just because Han would probably believe him even less, Ben adds madness to the crazy.

“I was fighting against the Emperor.”

Han drops the blaster on the table and Ben jumps from the overly loud sound that echoes on the walls. His dad’s face is a patchwork at his most incredulous. That’s it, Ben is going to be dumped in the first mental institution on Chandrila – if not on the closest planet in their way.

“You were fighting the _Emperor_?” Han reiterates with disbelief. “The one that Vader threw down the chute on Death Star, the Second? Who got fried and probably iced in space?”

Despite the precarious situation, Ben finds it in himself to smile.

“Yes, because he’s a slick bastard that simply refuses to die.”

“And you were fighting with him alone, like an idiot!” Han says accusingly. “Like Luke did! Don’t tell me he was the one who gave you this stellar idea!”

This discussion is getting out of hand, Ben thinks, and that’s putting it mildly. Even though he hates being associated with Skywalker, he tries to gloss over that little detail in lieu of the other, wilder things that Han keeps assuming.

“No, I wasn’t alone.”

And he says this with a good dose regret and heartbreak. He doesn’t feel ready to unpack everything that happened on Exegol right now, but Han deserves an answer as much as he deserves not to think that he has a madman onboard.

“There was someone else with me. We fought and she managed to kill him, but the effort killed her in turn.” Ben bites his lip, tries to lock back down the crunching weight of the fear and _loneliness_ he felt in those few disorienting moments. Before he realized what he had to do. “I gave up my life instead, so that she could live.”

His voice comes out rugged and Ben clasps his hands in front of him and watches his scarred hands because he cannot look at his dad right now. The cuts and bruises he has accumulated when he climbed the cliff Palpatine threw him in were caked with dry blood and starting to fade. It’s been maybe three days, but Ben is uncertain at this point. Who knows how long it took the Force to transport him through time and space?

What did it even want, dropping him on Kashyyyk like that in the first place?

“I don’t want to sound like a nerf herder but,” Han clears his throat and Ben glances up at the wordless cue. He hesitates, “did she deserve it? You giving your life up for her?”

Ben isn’t much offended by the question as he (and Han) thought he’d be. Rather, he’s studious in the way he’s thinking about that moment. It feels like a lifetime ago.

“Yes.” He replies without an ounce of regret or doubt. “I love her.” His voice breaks along with his heart as his mind conjures the memory of their kiss. The rightness of it.

Han is silent for two heartbeats before his face breaks into a smile, soft and careful. The way he encompasses Ben with a look so full of understanding is just staggering in its intensity. Ben almost sobs out loud.

“That’s good, kid. When nothing else can be done, this is the best thing you can do for someone you love.” And his dad is speaking from experience and Ben wants to apologize for all the hurt and the pain he is going to cause his parents. He wants to apologize for killing Han and he wants to thank him for bringing him back from the brink and saving him from the other side of the Force.

But he cannot do any of those things, so Ben clamps his mouth shut tight and closes his eyes in the hope that the tears will not fall. He stays like that for a few minutes until he’s sure that the imminent breakdown passed.

It’s good that they’re the only ones on the ship because Ben barely needs an audience.

When he opens his eyes again, Han is still there, watching him and patiently waiting for Ben to get a hold on himself. The heavy stare speaks volumes but is paradoxically liberating and supportive, and he tries his best to soldier on despite wanting to curl up on the worn couch and cry.

He scarcely has the presence of mind to realize that he’s really here, with his dad and it’s all he’s ever really wanted. It’s another type of heartbreak altogether, to know that Ben is a stranger in Han’s eyes, despite the compassion he shows for him. But that’s his dad – rugged and full of edges to enemies and strangers, but compassionate when they start showing a bit of humanity.

Ben takes strength from the constant hum of the _Falcon’s_ engines and lifts his head from where it fell to rest between his hands. If he looks anything like he’s been crying, his dad doesn’t comment on it.

Instead, Han rises from his seat and holsters back his blaster. The smile on his face turns into something less soft, but still friendly and Ben is glad that his dad isn’t keen on throwing pity parties.

“Tell you what,” if the beginning of his sentence is not enough to alarm Ben, the way his dad’s eyes fill with determination surely does, “you are coming for dinner when we arrive on Chandrila and I’ll even throw in the guest room, if you promise not to steal anything.”

Despite the levity in his tone, Han is serious. Ben shakes his head, blindly reaching for a good excuse.

“No, I wouldn’t want to impose-“

Han throws him an incredulous glare and Ben rehashes it on the spot.

“I mean, I can come for dinner, but I can’t occupy a full guest room.”

“Kid,” Even as he says this, Han seems confused and it’s like he finally sees how old Ben really looks. His dad drops the matter though, in favour of arguing with the sheer stubbornness his passenger seems to hold, “I won’t let you sleep out on the street and I doubt you’ve got any credits for a hotel. Unless you plan on breaking into a bank…” Han trails off and eyes Ben with a hefty dose of teasing along with a gram of grim inquiry.

Ben is prompted to roll his eyes and he sighs, in apparent defeat. He’s as stubborn as Han is, maybe more. But he’d lie if he says that the prospect of a nice dinner with his parents and a place to sleep doesn’t sound _kriffing_ amazing. Something pulls in his chest at the thought of getting to see his mother, but at the same time he absolutely cannot wait to.

“Alright.” Ben finally agrees, long-sufferingly and only so his dad will stop wiggling his eyebrows like that. It makes for a strange image. And because Ben is Leia Organa’s son, he adds despondently. “Thank you.”

Han reaches over and pats Ben’s shoulder twice before he grabs his mug from the table.

“Chin up, kid!” His dad says in passing, walking back to the cockpit. The chat is apparently over and Han is appeased with the level of information he’s got. “You’re going to find a way to get back to the woman you love.”

In spite of the boost of confidence, Ben still finds it in himself to grouch back at his father.

“How are you so sure?” His tone is arid, but his heart dangles at the edge of a tread over an abyss of hopelessness.

Han shrugs, apparently unconcerned with the _how_ , as per usual.

“You’re gonna figure out a way, I’m sure.”

With that warm thought, his dad disappears down the corridor and leaves Ben to his treacherous thoughts, of which he soon finds out that he has no energy for. So, without much else to do, Ben inhales the rest of his ration bars and makes a decision.

His future-slash-past bunk looks the same as its twin on the other side of the cabin, untouched by a small boy’s hands and towering aspirations. Ben drops on the narrow bunk and sleeps the rest of the journey away with the rumbling of the _Falcon_ as sweet music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Liberation of Kashyyyk](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Liberation_of_Kashyyyk_\(Galactic_Civil_War\))


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> way late, but here i am with a new chapter! many thanks to freestyle_tears!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

* * *

**CHANDRILA**

He wakes up as they’re docking. Ben hears the fading sound of the engine and he all but jumps from the bunk because he has slept for way longer than he ever intended to.

He was way more tired than he had thought, it seems, but that line of thinking only brings back misery and pain and memories of Sith lords, so Ben shakes them away with determination and starts for the cockpit.

It takes him less than two minutes and when he passes over the threshold of the cabin, he finds Han in the middle of the power down protocols. His dad takes one look at his rumpled clothes and disheveled hair and snorts.

“Thanks for the help, _co-pilot_.” There’s barely any heat to it, but Ben feels chastened anyways.

“You should have woken me up.” He says defensively and studies the world outside.

They are in a small hangar, full of crates, spare speeder parts and smaller craft generally used for travelling inside the city. There are numbers in aurebesh on the walls, where the speeders are parked and it’s all Ben needs to conclude that this is a private hangar accessible only to the residents of the building. This revelation brings him a step closer to reality.

They’re on Chandrila, in Hanna City, on Embassy Row. His childhood home.

The notion leaves him breathless and fearful at the same time. He is fucking crazy, that’s the conclusion, as he takes a step back to let Han exit first.

“You were sleeping like the dead, kid.”

His dad winces at the indirect jab at Ben’s current situation, but Ben barely has the emotional headspace to think about himself dying when everything around him is so vibrant and real and _alive_. And so, _so_ painfully familiar. Every little object, every small detail, screams at him with a hundred mundane voices that are familiar in their intensity. Repressed memories fight to break out and remind him of a childhood that was as miserable as sometimes it was full of love.

“-you sleep ‘cause, contrary to your belief, I _can_ handle my damn ship on my own.” His dad’s voice distantly interrupts his thoughts and Ben turns his head to find himself alone in the cockpit, standing there like an idiot. There are footsteps down the hall, but when Han sees his guest is not following, he stops. “Are you coming, junior?”

Ben licks his lips and struggles to appear unruffled. He’s pretty sure that he looks extremely apprehensive and more than somewhat on edge. He hopes that his dad won’t take it personally.

“Yes, sorry.” Ben clears his throat of the cobwebs that seem to make it hard to speak.

They disembark the Falcon together and Han brings Ben to a turbolift hidden in a corner that Ben remembers hiding behind to wait for Han whenever he commed about coming home.

The apartment is on one of the highest levels and Ben takes this opportunity and the apparent lack of conversation from his father to sort his thoughts into a semblance of order. He cannot appear rattled by anything or anyone he sees. He can’t give them more reasons to distrust him, but most importantly, he _cannot_ tell them any of the truth. It’s something he will never be able to do, no matter how much pleading or threatening is involved.

It is easy to pretend with his dad, because besides honed people-reading skills, there is not much else to put Ben on the spot. But his mother is Force sensitive, and no matter how much training she refused, Leia has an amazing skill of using it intuitively. She will sense that something is wrong from the first second she lays eyes on him, if Ben is not careful.

Balance is what he needs. Peace of mind and a strong equilibrium so that nothing can tear him apart. He cannot let anything affect him, he can be affected and feel it out later when he’s alone.

“I told my wife that we’ll have a guest, so you’re expected.” Han turns slightly towards him and Ben all but scoffs. It’s a clear warning to behave, if he’s ever heard one. He doesn’t know why Ben ever gave Han the impression that he wouldn’t, but it seems fair enough when he remembers that Han barely knows him. It’s easy to forget that when Ben knows so much about them both.

“That’s good.” Ben answers clumsily, and he tries to reiterate. “It’s good that you told her.”

Han lifts a probing eyebrow, but he doesn’t have time to grill Ben further because the turbolift doors slide open. The door is just ahead and Ben watches Han thumb in the security code, noting that it’s a variation of something he remembers.

The apartment is less cluttered than he remembers, but the same in all other aspects. Still crowded with discarded clothes and much too many comfort pillows, still full of different keepsakes from a bunch of different planets on the furniture around the living room. There are holopics scattered over every surface, as well as holopads holding probable government secrets that Ben is sure he isn’t allowed to see. It’s surprising that his mom left them there, when she knew a stranger will come into their house.

Han ushers him inside, already in the process of discarding his outerwear as he walks the length of the short hallway along with his guest. Ben stops only when his legs bump into the low coffee table in the middle of the living room and he uses the couple of seconds Han is distracted by his tediously laced boots to inspect the space.

There is a holoprojector inside the table he is currently leaning on, that slides out when his mother has a high-profile emergency call. The three low couches that surround it are less spotted and less tortured by toddler Ben Solo on his playdates or in his tantrums. White linen curtains frame the entrance to the large balcony, embroidered with traditional alderaanian patterns. Those are the only reason Han doesn’t grumble each and every day about having curtains. Ben remembers how his father was never really a fan, though he never did have a chance to find out why that is.

The sun shines through, shyly painting the room in luminous spots of light along the cream colored walls. Ben sees how the shapes shiver and twine on the thick carpet running the length of the living space, another traditional corellian work, like the ones in all the other rooms in the house. If his mother can have the curtains and the cutlery because of tradition, then his dad has the carpets and the alcohol.

It’s like walking through a museum and a mausoleum all at once, a distant, harsh picture of what is to come and a eulogy of one young Ben Solo. Full of life and a prodigy in the Force yet trampled by an overwhelming pressure coming from all sides that finally managed to mold him into someone he fought against becoming his whole life. In the end, he doesn’t know if he ever really had a real choice in the matter.

Han gestures for him to sit down and Ben all but drops down on the nearest couch like a deadweight, his gaze still studying every bit of visible surface available.

“You have a very nice home.” He speaks, a touch breathless, when he finally remembers his manners.

“Thank you.”

It’s not his father who says this and Ben’s stomach drops in tandem with his mother appearing in the doorway of his parents’ bedroom. If his father seems young to him, then his mother is even _younger_ and as beautiful as ever. Her hair is up into a masterful braid that cradles her head like a halo.

“Ben, this is my wife Leia.” Han places a hand on his mom’s lower back and guides her into the room. “Leia, this is Ben, the kid I told you about.”

He’s hardly a kid, thank you very much. His mom is of the same opinion because she shoots his dad an incredulous look from the corner of her eye.

Now that the introductions are over with, Han excuses himself and retreats into the kitchen to start on dinner, leaving Ben and Leia alone in a strangely charged silence. His mom holds a polite, official smile on her face and her eyes are seizing Ben up with nurtured practicality.

That sharp, searching look helps him, grounds him. He can stand up, even if his legs are jiggly. He can thrust his hand out with the small, polite smile that he’s inherited from her and he can say what is expected of him to say.

“No, I must thank you for inviting me into your home. You practically saved me. It’s an honor.”

Leia’s eyebrows furrow and she looks a touch quizzical, but she shakes it off with an upwards tug to her mouth and offers a surprisingly tight squeeze in return that lasts for only a heartbeat before she lets go.

“If my husband believes that you are to be saved, then I support the motion.” His mom crosses her arms over her chest and for the first time ever, Ben notices that there’s no visible claim of her being pregnant and is instantly relieved.

It’d be a _kriffing_ strange experience otherwise. More than it already is.

Without any other answer to offer, Ben nods in agreement and sits back down along with Leia.

“Just trying to make myself helpful!” His dad snarks as he reenters the room, handling two glasses and a Corellian whisky bottle in one hand and one tall glass of water in the other.

“M’lady.” Han presents the unassuming beverage with a flourish and Leia accepts with a roll of her eyes that makes something tighten in Ben’s chest.

“Thanks.”

Han turns his attention to Ben and continues talking as he pours their alcoholic drink in the crystal thumblers. “I hope it’s alright that I told Leia of your uh, _circumstances_ , Ben.”

Ben takes a moment to wonder if he heard wrong, but when his parents continue watching him, one analytical, one worried, he realizes that his dad really meant to say those words. He doesn’t know if he should feel betrayed or angry at Han for telling Leia his secret, but Ben realizes that he never did ask his dad to not tell anyone else. Which is a flimsiplast defense against this outright breach of confidence and he glares at his dad, despite the fact that his heart is beating fast and his palms are clammy because of his spiking anxiety.

As versed as he is in people, Han immediately senses the reason behind Ben’s reaction and tries to make amends over Leia’s interested silence.

“Look, kid!” Han waves his hands and gulps back because he only succeeds in making Ben’s glare deepen. “I’m not the best guy to help your case! Leia’s brother is a big shot Jedi, he is definitely more equipped to help you-“

“Maybe I didn’t need help!” Ben tries to say it as devoid of any emotion as he can, but as per usual in his case, it comes out biting and reproaching. “Did you wonder about that?”

“If I may intervene,” Leia eyes them both with thinly veiled confusion, though her gaze is anything but sympathetic, “I understand your reluctance to talk about this, Ben. I also know that Han telling me your secret is not what you wished for and I agree that my husband is barely intelligence officer material,”

“Hey!” His dad protests against all odds.

“But he had the best intentions when he informed me of your special situation.”

There goes his mother again, bringing pertinent arguments to the table and succeeding in making Ben lose all of his momentum. Now he can’t even be angry at them anymore.

Leia shifts so she sits on the edge of her chosen seat. From Ben’s experience, it’s either be swallowed by these couches or tether on the very edge, in case you want to see what’s going on in the room. Either way, they are not very conductive for business and serious discussions.

She looks at him with an expression cut out of Senate holovid sessions – serious, but serene and inviting debate but not arguments.

“My brother, Luke, is a Jedi. He can help you.”

Ben knows all about master Jedi Luke Skywalker and the help he can give. He isn’t so sure that he’s already desperate enough to start asking for help in places that only hold Ben’s own version of hell.

He deflates with a sigh and sinks into the soft cushions, letting himself drown in the couch. Ben hopes that it could swallow him hole, get him away from here, preferably back in Rey’s arms. Damn it, now he’s sad again.

Han is watching them both, still standing, hands perched on his hips and making an amusing image of shame and worry.

“It’s alright.” Ben meets Han’s gaze and hopes that the man understands he is forgiven. “If I won’t be able to find the answer on my own,” Force help him he will, even if it takes a whole damn year, “I will, uh, ask for your brother’s help.”

His mom frowns. “Are you sure you don’t want me to call him now?” She asks gently. “He is pretty far away from Chandrila. It will take him a while to get here.”

_Good_ , Ben sneers inside his mind, but outwardly he only shakes his head shortly.

“At the moment, no. I will probably be able to make it on my own. I don’t want you to call him here for nothing.”

Leia’s mouth twists but she nods nonetheless and sips at her water and Ben follows suit, even as he inwardly cringes at the bold taste of the whisky.

What follows is his dad’s attempts at small talk both Leia and their guest. Ben contributes as much as he can while he struggles to keep his roiling emotions in check. He catches his mother throw him inquisitive glances once or twice and Ben finds himself at the other end of a covert investigation again.

It’s fifteen minutes in and they’ve already discussed pretty much every topic that skirts safely away from Ben’s situation or future events. It’s a strange experience to talk about a present that, for him, is in the past.

There’s a short pause at some point, in which Leia seemingly finishes her assessment of him and finally reaches a conclusion.

“I feel like I’ve already met you, Ben.”

This is not the conclusion Ben hoped she would get to, at all, and he’s instantly panicked by Leia’s words. Has she somehow gleamed something off him, however unintentionally? He didn’t feel her prod, so it’s obviously something in her subconscious that determined her to say something like this.

Ben ventures out an awkward laugh over Han’s questioning glances between them.

“Kind of impossible since I’m even not born yet.” _Fuck._ “I mean, I’m from the future, after all. You couldn’t have met me before.”

Leia keeps the serious expression on her face for two more moments that are enough to give Ben anxiety for life before her expression softens into an embarrassed giggle.

“That’s quite true. I’m so sorry about that! Sometimes I find myself saying things that make no sense.”

Oh, they make perfect sense, if Leia would have all the details. And even if she doesn’t, should Ben allow her even a moment of respite to reflect on this feeling, he’s screwed.

“Don’t worry, people tell me that I have a common face.” Ben lies through his teeth, but injects as much candor as it takes to make them accept his words at face value.

Thankfully, his dad decides that this is quite enough of socializing for him and announces that he will go and resume preparing the food.

“We have a chef droid, but Han always insists on cooking whenever he’s home.” His mom says, volunteering the explanation as a result of her wrong interpretation of Ben’s overwhelmed expression. That is, actually, the result of another bout of memories mercilessly assaulting his ass. She must think that everyone uses a chef droid in the future.

Ben watches his mom watch his dad’s retreating back with a soft kind of fondness and he bites on his lip because he might only remember the arguments and the yelling, but it’s the quiet moments like this that never seem to stay with him. The nice, normal times when his parents’ love for each other is obvious over every other awful thing life throws their way. It fucking sucks to discover that now, when all Ben can do is get out of their lives.

“Ah.” Ben offers, incredibly articulate.

Leia turns around sharply towards him and her dress shifts in a whirlpool of forest green. It’s like she just landed from Endor, complete with an ensemble made by its short inhabitants. 

“In the meantime, you can help me set up the table.” Her gaze is full of amusement and even though Ben’s not in the know about the joke, he nods in her direction and stands up.

In a surprising turn of events, they end up preparing the table on the outside balcony. His mom makes him in charge of folding napkins and handling the plates, claiming that the finer elements such as glasses and cutlery will be left to her. Ben thinks it’s a good strategy because considering his distraught state, he would probably break a few like an idiot.

When he’s satisfied with the arrangement, Ben glances up towards the horizon. They are high enough that most of the other buildings in Hana are dwarfed, and they can enjoy an amazing chandrilan sunset. He can almost make out the ocean, far in the distance and a skittish memory comes to the forefront of Ben’s mind. For a second, he can smell again the salt and the algae. There’s his mother’s voice calling to him over the tumble of waves, crashing on the shore. The sand makes it hard to run back to their blanket, covered with too much food and surrounded by a plethora of toys.

“Are you alright, Ben?”

Leia watches at him oddly and Ben blinks away the image bathed in the warm colors of summer and glances down at her.

“Yes, sorry. It’s a beautiful view.”

His mother takes one look at the magnificent landscape and a smile stretches over her young features.

“It is.” She whispers in lieu of not spoiling the moment.

For the next three hours, Ben tackles the goal of enjoying dinner with a single-minded determination. He can barely remember the last time he spent more than one hour in his parents’ presence, so by the time hour number four rolls around, he’s left drained but somewhat content.

His dad cooked an amazing two course meal that brought back a hefty number of memories that Ben stuffed over with food and swiftly forgot about. The sun left in its wake a sky full of galaxies and somewhere along the way, Ben came to enjoy the wine imported from Naboo. For the first time in a long time, he is relaxed, happy to just let the evening pass by as he watches the busy city continue in its activities even after nightfall, his parents’ easy banter a buzz in the background that is neither jarring nor bringing back any unsavory thoughts. It just is, and some masochistic side of him wonders if this is how his life would have been, had he stayed with his parents, in a world where no evil ex-emperors wanted to make him their slave.

Such thoughts have no place right now and Ben’s gaze detaches from the painting of lights and darks in the distance and rests on his parents’ suddenly silent forms. 

Han is watching him with thinly veiled amusement.

“You seemed kinda lost for a moment there, junior.”

His mom shoots Han an admonishing glance, but Ben waves her concern of etiquette away with a small smile of his own.

“I was, sorry. Today took its toll on me, it seems.” He pauses because while this is true, he has more than that on his mind. “Brings back memories, that’s all.”

“So, you did grow up on Chandrila!” His dad slaps a palm on his thigh, as if he just confirmed something that’s been bothering him for a while.

Despite it being against what Ben fought for until now (to not let anything about himself come to light that could compromise him), his smile widens.

“Yes. I didn’t lie to you.”

“On that part.” His mom smirks into her palm, resting her cheek on her hand as she watches him.

Ben huffs into something very close to an actual laugh.

“I told you more of the truth than you’d think.” He admits and leaves it at that. He won’t be spilling the beans just because he has a few more alcohol grams in his bloodstream than usual. One glance through the open doorway shows a chrono that reports a time later than Ben expected. “Delicious dinner.” He praises, standing up from the table.

His parents watch him before Han remembers that Ben doesn’t know where the guestroom is.

In a wild twist of fate that neither Han nor Leia are aware of, Ben is very much knowledgeable about where the guestroom is and he has to make a conscious effort not to start walking around the house like he owns it – which is another good question that will be addressed if Ben will ever get back to his time alive and well.

“Goodnight.”

Leia offers a wordless wave and a sweet smile, and Ben leaves the table with a lighter heart and in certainly better spirits. Han brings him down another hall that starts next to the kitchen and opens the first door to the left. The room is the same way Ben knows it to be, minus the clumps of fallen hair that never really seem to go away, courtesy of a certain Wookie.

“Here you go, kid.” His dad steps aside and Ben enters, trying to feign looking around in wonder before he turns and bows his head in gratitude.

“Thank you.”

Han offers a short salute and a “G’night!” before he thumbs the panel and the door closes soundlessly.

Ben takes a moment to accommodate to his new environment, which includes a quick trip to the refresher. His journey ends up with him sitting on top of the bed, legs crossed and hoping to fall into a deep meditative state, now that he’s in such good spirits.

It always comes hard to him, meditating. Usually, he never has the patience for it, but he hopes that today is an exception because either way, meditation is his only means of finding answers. Communing with the Force is more necessary than ever now.

Closing his eyes and filtering out any undesirable background noises, Ben pulls at the familiar threads of energy surrounding him and wills his mind to sink lower and lower. It’s an arduous process, and nothing particularly interesting comes to light from prodding in the Force.

It’s balanced, but just barely. The slightest move and the scale can tip one way or the other. It’s a hard practice, letting go of all subjective thoughts and concentrating to achieve a peace that he’s barely had for half a day and one kiss, but he thinks he’s made it when a thin thread materializes before his mind’s eye.

It’s _their_ thread, the one bounding Rey and him together. Only now, Ben realizes with a sinking heart and a wail in his soul, it’s split on one end and shorter than it was before. Rey’s side is gone, only thin fragments of thread speaking of what has once been there.

Ben searches frantically, tries to find something, _anything_ with the imprint of her Force signature but nothing comes to light. He’s just about to launch into a true rage-fueled tantrum and curse just about everything and the Force when another idea pops into his head. Ben gives the bond a little nudge. Just a tiny, small one that should have done nothing usually, but now it offers just the tiniest pull back.

He doesn’t know if it this means anything or is, in the end, just a figment of his imagination, but Ben tugs again, harder and putting much more mental work behind the gesture. The thread trembles, as if taut, and pulls back in another direction. Ben does the same thing three more times, struggling to add more force and hoping that it will accomplish something more than just a pull back some random way. He is close to fainting from the mental struggle but Ben manages one last pull and the Force delivers with a rebound that literally pulls him into a vision. The images are shaky and pass by faster than he can make sense of them, but the vision itself gives Ben a certain feeling that he recognizes instinctually.

His eyes snap open and the brightness of the room lights blinds him for a second. It’s all he can do to stand his ground and not give into the need to tear the city apart. Instead he pulls the covers back and slides into bed, resigned to a sleepless night and more than ready to ponder over the vision and what the Force wanted to convey with it.

By morning, Ben resolves, he will know where he needs to go.

* * *

“Are you _sure_ that you’re gonna be alright, kid?”

His dad asks him the same question for the tenth time in the last six minutes and Ben all but rolls his eyes as he works on tying his boots. It’s an extremely complicated process, not only because these laces are extremely slippery and won’t stay in place but also because they are _one parsec_ long.

He spies his mother throw Han a peculiar look, holding confusion most of all. She stands next to his dad, both looking completely out of their depth as Ben works on his shoes and he prepares for the journey ahead. Now that he knows where he actually needs to go, he decided to stop beating around the bush and just go investigate. He is a jittery and nervous mess, but waiting around won’t help anyone, most of all himself or Rey.

Just the thought that he may be able to go back to her fills him with all the determination that he needs.

“Why do you keep calling him ‘kid’, Han?” His mother asks with all the candor so characteristic of her around friends and family. And seemingly Ben, he’s surprised to note.

True, they might be approaching being acquaintances, but he doesn’t think that being friends is anywhere close in their current relationship. Inwardly, Ben has a theory on why he keeps making his parents confused and it has to do with the Force’s influence. Again.

His presence here obviously causes some kind of _turbulence_ in the timeline after all, and his parents are subconsciously feeling a kind of connection to Ben that makes them say stuff like ‘kid’ and ‘I feel like I know you’, and do things like saving his naked ass and giving him a ride to Chandrila. They welcomed him in their home without much protest or questions asked – things that they would otherwise never happen with any other stranger. Ben somehow feels like he’s using them, but he doesn’t want to think about it in those terms.

His dad studies Leia for a moment, trying to build an answer that won’t be _kriffing_ loony, Ben guesses from the way he shifts from one foot to the other and crosses his arms over his chest. Han Solo is a very, very self-conscious man and more than a little embarrassed for being put on the spot.

“I-“ He clears his throat and Ben does roll his eyes and makes a show of being very absorbed with the other boot. “I don’t really _kriffing_ know why, alright!” It seems that his dad finally gave up. Han rubs the back of his neck and Ben feels their eyes fall on him. “Just felt like calling ‘im that, that’s all.”

Leia huffs and Ben hides his smile with a grunt as he finally finishes and sits up from the stool at the entrance. He puts on his standard field jacket that he received from the New Republic military two days ago. It’s awful, but it’s useful and that’s all Ben really needs right now.

He can feel their gazes follow his every move and now that the time has come to leave his parents behind once again, Ben finds himself hesitating. A part of his heart that remains young and scared claws at him to stay here forever, but there is another side of him, scarred, older and still full of fear that hisses to get his act together and leave already.

Rey is waiting for him, a future he never thought he’d have the opportunity to live is waiting for him. Ben only needs to follow their bond to find her and then they will figure everything out together.

With these thoughts in mind, Ben smiles to his parents and nods as he hoists up his backpack on his shoulder.

“Thank you very much for your help and for your hospitality.”

They nod in unison, silent because they either feel no need to speak or they don’t know what to say to him.

Breakfast started off loud this morning, with Leia watching both Han and Ben wrestle over the pancake pan, though Ben doesn’t know what, exactly, he wanted to achieve beyond showing off his improved pancake technique he and his dad will develop later on. But the atmosphere drifted off into a sober silence after Ben declared that he will be leaving them today after which he proceeded to list the clues that helped him figure out where to go. His parents continued on after that stressful monologue in a subdued manner until now.

“Are you sure that the Force is right, Ben?” His mom asks hesitantly, in a warped reiteration of his dad’s earlier question.

Ben nods. He feels like a fourteen year old kid again under the twin worry in their gazes. One corner of his mouth twitches upwards. “Yeah, I think so. If not, you’ll be seeing me soon.”

Han grins while his mom shakes her head, biting down a giggle.

“You are welcome to come back in that case.” Leia steps forward and takes both of his hands in hers. Ben hides his shock behind a blink and tries to relax in her suddenly tight grip. His mother’s gaze is a constant that has been with him for all his life and is now pointed at him with steady warmth. “Please take care of yourself, Ben.”

He swallows through the knot and the pain with all the wistfulness of a child who had no more chances to see his mother before she died, yet still heard her for one fleeting moment when he thought that _he_ was dying. Ben wants nothing but to gather her in his arms and never let her go, but he knows that this isn’t possible right now.

Ben squeezes her hands in turn and Leia lets go and moves back in line with her husband. His dad steps forward and extends his hand to him. Ben shakes it twice and expels a subtle breath of relief over having passed through this emotional ordeal in one piece.

“See you around, kid.”

Ben offers Han one last smile, takes one last, sweeping look that encompasses them both and then turns around and thumbs the door open. He doesn’t think he really breathes until he’s well away from Embassy Row.

There’s a bus available that goes to the city center, but Ben opts to walk the distance. The place he needs to get to can be found on the other side of the city center, northward towards the sprawling forests. He was surprised to feel the Force bond tug him in this direction, but at least he doesn’t need to leave the planet.

Hanna City is a hub of activity and prosperity that never ceases to bring a dose of optimism to the casual passers-by. The citizens are less grimy than they are on Coruscant, and much more welcoming than on Hosnian Prime, though they still carry a good dose of realism that rarely leave them vulnerable to thugs and criminals.

Ben passes houses and stores and more caf shops than he cares to count and then he’s left behind the smaller, tinnier streets that constitute the oldest part of Hanna’s first settlement and stops just after the first business building comes into view.

There’s a large park in this area, taking a good chunk out of the city proper, but it’s not an unwelcome distraction from the usual traffic and crowds. A tower rises on its southern edge to act as a ride to the masterpiece resting over the park on two curved pillars.

The Skygarden is designed to hold exotic species of plants from a plethora of other planets. It’s a botanical marvel that leaves many tourists with open mouths and awed expressions on their faces when they first get to visit it and many advertisements and holoads marvel at the exquisite set of rare species to be found here. 

Ben remembers being eight years old and snatching every opportunity to visit, taking whoever was willing to put up with him for an afternoon. He would run through the dirt paths and gape at the strangest plants he can find. Sometimes, he would try to touch them out of childish curiosity, but this was before they installed the fence-fields to protect the plants from exactly these kinds of attacks.

His dad was the one who usually visited with little Ben. Han would appropriate a bench under the shade of an Aphor tree, preferably, and would waste the day away dealing with boring, bureaucratic tasks as his son explored every inch of this garden. Other times his mom would come along and those were one of the rare, truly happy memories Ben holds locked away deep inside his heart. No one is allowed to touch them, not even Ben himself.

C-3PO once brought him here, on some weird day when his parents were away on an emergency. He still doesn’t remember how he managed to convince the fussy droid to come, but Ben had received a full rundown of every plant living here and some of the explanations he can still remember by heart.

By the time he was twelve, he knew every path, every plant by heart. It was his paradise retreat, somewhere the voices in his head were a little less loud, more manageable. Somewhere he felt the Force, not as a sharp weapon, but as a balm settling over his bones and cluttered mind.

As he steps on the landing platform, a scene straight from his childhood greets him in the sunny morning. Ben walks on a wider path, between floating holo-posters filled with information about every little life growing from the soil here. Filled with curiosity, he studies the specimens over the small metal fences with an acute sense of _déjà vu_.

Many he does not know the name of anymore, but some he does and some he gradually remembers. Ben blinks away the tears clouding his eyes and concentrates on the bond. It’s yet to present a more acute reaction, but Ben is used to work with what he gets so he dutifully steps away from the main road and diverts onto smaller footpaths until he’s lost through the dense enclosures of vegetation.

Benches line along the way, but most of them are empty. Visitors are hard to come by so early in the morning and he’s thankful for that. But just as it usually goes, the Force feels compelled to prove Ben wrong once he’s settled on a pronouncement.

“It’s unusual to see someone around at such an ungodly hour.” A woman’s voice breaks through his thoughts.

Ben’s pace falters and for one moment he is like a deer caught in the headlights before he remembers that there is no reason to feel like that. It is easy to fall back into old habits, and yet no sliver of defensiveness surfaces. The only thing he feels when he looks at Amilyn Holdo is sadness. And maybe a shot of guilt, but it’s too fast as it passes through Ben’s system and he has half a mind to recognize that she’s sitting right in front of him, sharp blue eyes expectant and investigative.

He’s had enough time to feel the full spectrum of grief that comes along with Amilyn’s death in the war. A death that, Ben’s mind argues, could have been avoided had he just listened to Rey and ordered the attack on what remained of the Resistance fleet over Crait to a stop. But he didn’t choose to do so and, as a consequence, one of his mother’s closest friends – and a person Ben considered family up until a certain point – sacrificed herself to destroy the _Supremacy_ so the rest of the Resistance would be able to get away.

_An unsung hero of democracy_ , Ben can almost see the beginning of his mother’s speech. A speech he will never get to hear because the war took Leia Organa as it did most of the rest of the veterans. They did what they could, but the instability of the galaxy will never really go away, Ben thinks. It’s much too diverse in opposing ideologies to find any common ground and besides, now that they were shown it is possible, any empire sympathizers with enough money and connections will continue trying to take over.

The only thing Ben hopes for is that no Force users will stick their noses in another war in the future. There is one way the war machine will stop, and it is when the Force will stop being used to hurt people – on any side. He sees that clearly now.

Amilyn is still waiting for an answer and Ben shakes his head, trying to get ahold of reality as he clears his throat.

“I find this garden more enjoyable in the mornings.”

She laughs and Ben reminds himself that this is aunt Amilyn, in this timeline. Ben is yet to be born, but he knows that from the moment she will rest her eyes on baby Ben, Amilyn, in all of her soon-to-be neon green haired glory, will never hesitate to drop by and visit him. Up to the point that Leia got the message and mentally slid Amilyn on the list of possible babysitters, much to his dad’s constant exasperation.

Amilyn was never but kind to Ben though, even in her most eccentric hour. The occasion was rare when he got to stay with her, but he cannot ever recall it being anything but fun.

“Yes, though you seem to be walking around with a single-minded determination. What’s the hurry, flyboy?”

Despite himself, Ben’s eyebrows climb on his forehead. It’s an established fact that Amilyn always says what she thinks, so he is most surprised by the nickname she assigns to him.

“How are you so sure that I’m a pilot?” Because the term is not really loosely applied to anyone not looking the part, after all. Gatalentans most of all, understand applying the correct terms to the correct people.

Amilyn’s eyes twinkle. “Well you surely look the part.” And Ben has nothing to say against that. New Republic clothes hold a certain kind of unappealing allure that is easy to glean off at a first meeting. But there’s more than she lets on, he can see this clearly.

But Ben shrugs. “Fair enough. What about you?”

Amilyn’s light blue hair is a spot of color even amongst the vibrant petals of the garden’s flowers. It draws Ben’s eyes away from her face, even though the color strangely matches her eyes and makes her seem otherworldly under the bright morning sun.

“I, too, sometimes hate people enough to spend some time alone.” Her mouth curves into a smirk when Ben huffs out a small laugh. “Though nothing as urgent as your thing.” 

It is certainly a very Amilyn-like answer that almost draws him back to a bittersweet childhood.

“I see.” Ben clears his throat and shifts on his feet.

Amilyn won’t ask him to sit, certainly, and he won’t accommodate her either way. He is in too much of a hurry.

“Well, it was nice meeting you.”

It certainly was – being able to speak with her one last time. In spite of the plethora of uncles Ben has, he only ever had two people he could call an ‘aunt’ and Amilyn is one of them, much to his mother’s fast bemusement.

“I have to-“

“You remind me of a very good friend of mine.” Amilyn interrupts, neither her expression nor tone betraying any of the emotions going on behind her eyes.

It should be unconceivable to be able to figure out something like that in such a short span of time, and after no more than five sentences exchanged, though Ben should have known not to underestimate her. The panic that flutters in his stomach does not help him keep his composure unruffled.

“That’s a strange thing to say to an absolute stranger.” Ben says, a touch frustrated and hopes that Amilyn will drop it and let him be on his way.

Jarringly, she only settles more comfortably in her seat. Her gaze is never far off from meeting his.

“Two friends, actually.”

“I really have to go now.”

“Be careful not to stray off too far, flyboy.” Amilyn barely raises her voice as he resumes walking down the dirt path without another word, heart clenched and breathing ragged. “You seem like one of those people.”

It’s eerie how quickly she figured him out. Ben knows Amilyn is one of the smartest people he’s ever met, but this is just ridiculous. A lifetime spent trying to be as much _unlike_ his family as humanly possible and yet Ben ends up being so much like them that it takes Amilyn only two minutes into their first conversation to connect the right dots.

Ridiculous and exactly on trend with the kind of luck he harbors.

Ben shakes his head as he the last of the shock he felt when he heard the news of the _Supremacy’s_ destroyer filters out. Amilyn Holdo is one of a kind, and that is maybe the most constant truth in this wide galaxy.

Trying to shake off the last vestiges of emotion their conversation brought onto him, Ben looks around to find that he’s long passed the temperate climate of Chandrila and similar planets. Judging by his faded memories, he’s some way away from the aquatic and swamp environments. This area of the garden is warmer, with drier air that grates at his lungs every time he breathes.

Ben knows this feeling, though he has rarely experienced it himself.

_Mostly because his family avoided desert planets like the plague and with a single-minded ferocity._

No, he never really experienced it for long, but he’s _felt_ it – felt the sun scorching his skin, felt the dry desert winds whip at his face with a vengeance, felt the rough texture slowing his walk and making his footsteps slip. He’s felt every one of these because of Rey. When they touched hands that night, he was able to experience these things through fleeting impressions and short recollections of her life on Jakku.

It had been a disorienting experience to make sense of after the fact, after his uncle’s explosive entrance, at which point Ben was promptly shoved back to his cabin on the _Supremacy_. But now it that it feels familiar, Ben knows where it might lead him. He doesn’t know what the bond really wants, but he has his theories.

The insistent feeling brings him to a stop at the north-eastern edge of the platform. He can see the ocean from this edge, facilitated by the absence of tall trees, sparkling under the rays of midday sunlight. Surrounded as he is by modest desert shrubbery, Ben’s chest tightens when he inadvertently thinks of Rey and his throat closes at the memory of her lovely smile. The last thing he’s ever seen, and he can’t really be sorry to have – _fake_ – died with that image still fresh in his mind.

But he feels like the biggest nerf herder in the galaxy for making her go through it. Through all of it. The last clue to the ironical conclusion that Kylo Ren has been more of a coward than Ben ever was as a child, was when instead of whisking Rey away from Palpatine’s claws, he trudged on like an idiot and did exactly what her evil grandfather wanted him to.

A fact which he still questions today. What if the bastard only said it to derail basically everyone with the revelation, but only for that? What if he lied? Because it is certainly possible. Ben clearly remembers shit hitting the fan the moment Kylo Ren basically threw the information in Rey’s face. He has felt a canyon of anguish yawn open in the Force around her and he shudders at the memory.

Either way, it does not change anything. The most it does is reinforce Ben’s plan of taking Rey by the hand and retreating on the farthest, nicest planet that he can find. And if not, he might have a chance of borrowing his grandmother’s castle on Naboo until he finds one.

A distressing jab at his subconscious interrupts his musings and Ben all but scowls at the insufferable insistence, though he’s inwardly very glad for its existence in the first place. The small enclosure he finds at his feet is filled with sand and sparse clumps of a dark green plant with tall, red flowers. It’s beautiful in its own way and Ben is savvy enough to get the metaphor.

He squats down, eyes narrowing on the innocent little flowers. There’s nothing here to suggest a portal or any kind of supernatural interference. The Force does not feel any different here than it did down there in the city. But still the bond tugs and Ben dutifully allows his actions to follow a path dictated by instinct.

His hand lifts and extends over the fence. There is a moment when he feels the hairs on his neck stand up, like charged with electricity and he smells ozone. Ben half expects a lightning bolt to strike him, but nothing comes as his fingers enclose on the stem of a Nightbloomer.

Ben plucks it away in the same moment that his vision is overcome by a white buzz and he loses consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Embassy Row ](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Embassy_Row)   
>  [The Skygarden ](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Skygarden)   
>  [Nightbloomer ](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Nightbloomer)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for being so late; a lot of factors contributed to that, the biggest one being procrastination  
> a lot of thanks to freestyle_tears! 
> 
> please enjoy!

* * *

**REBEL MILITARY SPACESHIP**

The purring of the sublight engines is the first thing Rey hears beside the ringing in her ears. She swallows against a heavy tongue and it’s like she just ate a whole string of cobwebs.

The world around her is eerily silent, yet she feels watched and definitely not alone. The floor under her is vibrating and periodically shuddering, and Rey knows that the ship she landed on is probably executing maneuvers to land. So, she needs to get moving, if only to be slightly more alert and ready when they come blasting in. Dying like an idiot is something she won’t do, now that she’s come so far.

The memory of Coruscant and its corresponding madness serves as a fuel for Rey, but not as much as the memory of Ben’s smile that unconsciously flashes at the forefront of her mind.

First, she tries to twitch her fingers and when that works without problem, she clenches her hands into tight fists. The muscles in her arms seem to be cooperative and her reflexes are fine so Rey braces herself for what she will find and opens her eyes.

She blinks away the blur induced by her long period of unconsciousness and finds the cabin before her completely unremarkable. It’s dingy and certainly not belonging to any official authority ship, because there are no government signs or purposeful writing. Instead, the floor is mostly covered in durasteel crates that very certainly house weapons and other war paraphernalia disguised as supply boxes. Even if her stay with the Resistance was considerably short, Rey has become accustomed to taking notice of such things because that is how you stay alive in a galaxy constantly ravaged by civil war.

Someone to her right clears their throat and Rey turns her head towards the sound, taking in the scruffy-looking residents sitting on the right-side row of seats in the cabin. The bench is fashioned from the steel coating of the ship and looks as uncomfortable as the floor is, maybe worse. There are five beings of different species in total, and Rey counts another eight on the other side, all closely huddled together with wide eyes. It is a possibility that the ones on the right are imposing their nonexistent might in this ridiculously small cabin, or it is just that the people sitting on the left are all a group of very scared citizens.

Either way, Rey slowly sits up on her haunches and peers through the escaped strands of hair to the right side, if only because she knows that she can make them squirm and spill the beans faster.

A Rodian glares back at her, but otherwise remains studiously silent. There’s a grim silence on this ship, one that makes Rey’s stomach twist as she thinks of the implications. If the Force has screwed with her once again…

“Where are we?” She asks in basic and hopes that they will understand. At least one of the three humans must, at least.

The Heptooinian grimacing on the left side opens his mouth and Rey turns to him, surprised to see him speak when he looks all but ready to melt into his seat as she fully stands up.

“I suggest you find a more secure position-“

Rey’s brows lift at his words, but the advice comes apparently too late because the ship shudders, as if close to disassembling on the spot, and she swears that something in the universe likes to have a laugh at her lately.

It’s only thanks to her mastery of the Force that Rey keeps her equilibrium, though not without coming close to kissing one of the weapons’ cache. She glares at the sealed door to the cockpit and rises to her feet once more, when the shuddering subsides, intent to tear the damned pilots a new one. Even if they are on their way to being executed, she’d like to not die before getting there. But the trapdoor sealing them into the ship groans open just then and artificial light cascades through.

The beings gathered around her stand up with carefully excited whispers and Rey watches them depart willingly and without another word or, more tellingly, screams and protests.

There are three men dressed in mismatched clothes on the hangar tarmac and there are greetings exchanged and orders shouted. Rey moves in a trance, climbing down long after the last passenger disembarked.

The trio watches her with surprised expressions, as if expecting anything but a confused young woman wearing bland clothes and sporting a rather strange, disheveled hairstyle, but they brush it off in a most professional manner. Rey glances around the hangar, trying to tame down the wisps of hair dancing across her face as the currents inside the sealed room change this way and that.

A Y-Wing is taking off, shooting off into the void of space on the other side of the safety barrier while others are firing their thrusters, ready to follow suit. She sees at least ten people wearing an incredibly orange flight suit, hauling flight helmets as they jump in their cockpits.

A duo of mechanics almost knocks her over in their haste to deliver the fuel pump to another fighter.

Detachedly, Rey takes all of this in, confused when and where she is. Obviously on a ship, but this does not seem to belong to the First Order or the Empire. Or New Republic for that matter, not that she’d know to recognize it, but Rey always imagined that it would be more, well, _First Order_ but with nicer people and a trusty kind of atmosphere all around.

What she senses now is overwhelming elation, excitement and determination. It’s as if the room is oozing with these emotions and trying to suffocate her in turn. Rey quickly averts her attention from the web of restless energy surrounding this hangar, lest she suffocates.

Her gaze finds another foothold instead and it’s the last ship she would have expected to spot in here. The _Millenium Falcon_ is parked in one corner of the large room, conspicuously sheltered by the other parked ships, but somehow Rey managed to catch sight of it. It’s a reassuring sight even as it is confusing. If the _Falcon_ is here, then _other people_ must be here as too, and Rey is not sure how she can face them. Not in this century.

The freighter looks less rusted and rundown than she is used to and that is saying a lot because the _Falcon_ still looks close to exploding into a myriad of mismatched parts. The exterior is less charred and busted and someone is working on it, judging by the flashes of flame coming from a welding torch.

So lost is she in studying the Falcon that she does not realize someone is talking to her.

“Can you understand basic? Hello?”

Rey flinches, startled and puts two steps between her and the young Twi’lek woman who keeps trying to get her attention.

“Yes, sorry.” Rey hastily says, in an attempt to not seem like a suspicious person who should not be here in the first place. “I was just,” she glances around, trying to come up with a believable excuse that does not seem too half assed, “taking it all in!”

And that’s all she can really spit out in such a hurry, but her efforts are rewarded when the young woman smiles softly and nods, as if completely understanding Rey’s awe.

“I know what you mean.” She says softly, wistfully. “But I will have to ask you to follow me to the conference room now.”

Rey frowns, her stomach churning and her eyes narrowed with guarded suspicion. “Why?”

The young Twi’lek only looks at her in confusion. “It is where they welcome the new recruits.” She says slowly, tentatively.

Rey blinks, suddenly embarrassed. Her only answer is a deflated “Oh.”, though her mind is racing. _New recruits_ means people being pulled in to fight for an organization locked in a war, but Rey’s never seen any of these mashed up uniforms anywhere before. Say what you want about the Resistance, but they were appropriately dressed for war. General Leia made sure of that.

Rey follows the young woman, steps light in her wake as they pass through corridor after corridor, full of beings running and shouting. It’s such a clamor that it distracts her every step of the way, eyes flying everywhere as her attention is pulled over one strange thing after the other. How anything gets done around here is a wonder, though it’s not much different than back with the Resistance.

An automatic door slides open and Rey is ushered into an overpacked room filled with fleeing beings searching for a new home, or something to fight for. All the chairs are occupied and many are standing up, filling the space at the back of the room. Along the wall from the door, and up to the front of the room, there are low ranking officers standing guard. In the front, an old man clasps his hands and begins to speak.

“Welcome to the Alliance to restore the Republic! We are honored to have you here and we hope that…”

Whatever else the man says is lost in the throes of a pretty serious existential crisis. While this unexpected turn of events should be expected, Rey has just been _kriffing_ thrown around by the Force from one timeline to another and she knows that she should have expected something like this to happen. But she did not expect _this_ to happen _._

She is thoroughly unprepared, mentally, emotionally, sanity-wise. She cannot meet Han Solo, or General Leia or worse, _Luke Skywalker_. Rey is simply not strong enough to stop any kind of break down she might suffer in front of them. Or any kind of violent act against Luke, if she is honest for a minute. Rey still has a bone to pick with her old master.

But, at the same time, Rey ponders, as the old man keeps droning on about the rules this Rebellion has been built on, there is no other way around it. The Force obviously wants her to meet them, maybe even ask them for help. If what happened on Rey’s previous visit on Coruscant is to be counted on, then the Force doesn’t simply throw her somewhere at random.

On Coruscant, it wanted her to get to know the Jedi Order, even if superficially. It wanted her to visit the alderaanian embassy and find that statue of the Mortis goddess. This means that there is something to be found here as well. And judging by the ongoing trend, that object must be something meaningful in a place full of ties to her or Ben.

Rey taps her fingers against her forearm, trying to think over the sound of divisions being listed off and jobs and training regimens being announced. What place is full of significance here, in the Rebel alliance of the past, if not the Rebel alliance itself?

But no, Rey frowns at the spotted floor, the Rebel alliance certainly has no meaning to her, and she doesn’t think that it has any meaning to Ben either. After Alderaan’s destruction, the embassy on Coruscant must have surely become an oasis for lost alderaanians who had just lost their homes. Yes, Leia must have been very invested into helping her fellow citizens, Rey is certain. So, Ben must have visited the embassy at least once or twice in his childhood.

But Ben never got to visit any Rebellion stronghold, so this is not it. The only other thing that comes remotely close to what her theory states is the _Falcon_. It’s a long shot, but it’s worth a try, sneaking into the old ship for a quick look. Maybe Rey will get what the Force wants her to find and she can get out of here before she has to lock eyes with anyone who might make her want to scream and lose her composure in front of a horde of people.

Strengthened by her conclusions, Rey looks up to find that the old man is still speaking and pointing to a holovid pasted on the wall.

“Are there beings with fighting experience who wish to join the battles on the front lines?” His bulbous eyes scan the room critically, assessing any possible future soldiers.

Rey’s jaw clenches, she can feel the muscles straining, but she cannot begrudge this subconscious reaction of her body because what she is about to do now might seem very, very stupid in retrospect.

But being a soldier is a doorway to many opportunities, most with access to the hangar and other assorted, important rooms. No one will raise an eyebrow if they spot her lurking around the _Falcon_. No one will ask any questions if she wears a pilot’s uniform.

Her hand shoots up, the first and only one in the room, and the sound is almost perverse in the sudden silence. The old officer regards her with unbridled dismay as his assessment comes to a close and the results turn out worse than he had expected. Rey cannot begrudge this of him, she knows how she must look. She feels the stark contour of her ribs every time she crosses her arms. Rey is a slip of a woman, too gaunt to assume she might have had a steady diet for a whole year in her life. But this matters little – she has the expertise and the experience, as the Rebellion officers will soon see.

The old man nods, seemingly against his better judgement, and returns to survey the room. It looks like Rey’s daring act of volunteering spurned some more beings into action and she allows the ghost of a smile to stretch at her mouth when she sees the spark of the Rebellion stoked again.

* * *

They gave her a uniform, though calling it that is a stretch of the imagination. Rey tugs at the neckline of her beige tunic. It’s made of a wool that chafes at her neck and she has to consciously bite her cheek in order to stop herself from ripping it apart. This was the best they had for someone who grew up in the desert. Her pants are slightly ill fitting and a blue so dark they are almost black. They even gave her a pair of knee length dark boots with so many _kriffing_ laces it took Rey a lifetime to sort out and tie properly.

Paradoxically, they seem to be the standard outwear here and Rey seriously wonders how much time to equip these rebels have.

After she was correctly dressed, Rey was taken to a training room and told to wait. Which is what she’s still doing, at least fifteen ridiculous minutes later.

In the meantime, another three men, two Mirialan women and the Rodian from yesterday arrived and now they had all joined her in sitting around the room and doing nothing. Rey takes a moment to survey the space, taking stock of any available escape routes and obstacles around the room, like she had when she first stepped inside. Despite her automatic examination, Rey got mostly everything right.

The room looks barely used, judging by the slightly moldy smell that permeates its walls and the small sheen of dust gathered on the floor. The lamplights above their heads glower with a sickly light and cast stark shadows against the white tiles on the floor. There is at least one Jedi training droid abandoned under a ventilation shaft along the left-side wall and Rey quickly averts her eyes, blinking back tears that have no place here. Two crates are pushed up next to the walls, one near the door and the other in the opposite corner of the room from it. The faint outline of another door is visible from where Rey leans against the wall and she guesses that they have a hidden closet full of training weapons.

Other than that, the center of the room is bare and uninteresting. The only exit is the door through which she entered and maybe the dirty ventilation shaft in the ceiling. It looks big enough to let her through, but she will have to jump pretty high in order to reach it.

Rey is still mulling over escape stratagems when the old officer from before enters along with an Elomin woman, who proceeds to offer each one of the new recruits a decisive glare. She’s so much taller than the man, than Rey, but neither her appearance nor her height is what makes her so dangerous.

Rey is immediately put on guard by the sneer on her face and the fire in her eyes. This woman exudes some threatening vibes into the Force and Rey is convinced that there is no reasoning and no bargaining with the Elomin. There is only following her orders.

“On your feet!” The woman officer snarls when she spots some people still on the ground.

Rey exhales in a short snort, thinking that they were probably too taken aback by her to remember their military etiquette.

“You are here for one reason only,” she begins without preamble or introduction, “to fight against the Empire and _win_!” A pause to underline the threat and the warning in her words. “If you cannot do that then you have no place in the Rebel alliance.”

Rey purses her lips and crosses her arms over her chest. This Elomin woman is a passionate one, spouting heavily veiled encouragement in her discourses to boost morale and the will to fight against the odds. Which means that she’s good at what she’s doing.

“To determine the extent of your abilities, you will have one task today.” Her red eyes encompass them all in one moment. “Show me that you know how to fight.”

This will be easy, Rey thinks with a certain amount of grim satisfaction. Fighting is maybe the one thing she knows how to do best other than survive. She will pass with flying colors.

Her adversary is one of the human men, twice her size and with enough muscle mass to be a pain if she’s caught. Rey reaches for her lightsaber but stops herself in time for the motion to not appear suspicious. She went through a lot of pain to keep it out of anyone’s hands while they were dressing her, the last thing she wants is the stern Elomin woman to confiscate it.

“Begin!”

The man lives up to his appearance and all but dives headfirst into an attack. Rey side-steps gracefully, places a hand on his shoulder and uses his accumulated momentum to jump on his back, ready to strike him down. In a surprising feat of versatility, the man reaches a hand over his back for her, before she’s had time to complete her task.

Afraid of getting caught, Rey pushes back and let’s go, rolling on the ground and jumping to her feet in one fluid motion. A fist flies towards her face and she crouches, sticks a leg out and trips him enough to buy some precious seconds for a counterattack. Rey strikes out with her elbow, thrusting it into his gut and the man cries out but remains standing.

It’s a sick game of tag and Rey is all but done with it. Evading his large reach once more, she runs towards the wall and uses the Force to launch herself over his head. It’s a move that she would have managed by herself, but the amplitude of the leap would have been severely reduced, and she needs to be above his head. She twists along with the currents of the Force and she hardly cares that this isn’t fair as she drives her knee in his face and falls along with her victim on the ground. She punches him another two times before he’s had time to lift his arms and then proceeds to catch the offending limbs when he does.

Rey pins them down and places her knee on his neck, just because she wants this victory as clean as possible.

The Elomin woman is already at her side by the time their match has finished, and she gestures for Rey to stand, pointing a finger in the old man’s direction. The other woman’s eyes are narrowed, but her posture tells Rey nothing of use. She’s not tense, neither is she angry so maybe Rey is not in trouble.

The old man brings her into the empty cabin across the hallway. It’s a darkened conference room that is so small, it can hold a party of less than ten people. There’s a round table with chairs in the middle and a holoprojector stands upon it, but beside that, there is nothing else of interest.

The door closes behind her and the old man turns to face her, hands clasped behind his back. His expression is open and curious.

“You did not say anything about being able to control the Force.”

Rey shrugs, somewhat taken aback by the way he said that statement. “It didn’t come up.”

The officer’s mouth tightens into a tight line before he exhales and grabs a chair to sit.

“How well can you use the Force?”

She refuses to reveal the true extent of her abilities, but she needs to grab a job on the front lines, so she volunteers something of the truth.

“Well enough. I can lift rocks, too. And sense… stuff.”

The old man sniffs, as if uninterested in what she has to say and he probably wanted Rey to tell him that she can kill the Emperor, but she can’t. She wasn’t able to do it the first time around either. 

The thought of the Emperor – of _him_ – brings forth a wave of nausea and rage that have no place coursing through her veins right now. She can do nothing about it, not when Ben isn’t here with her and even if she could, she would stay away. Just the thought of being in the same galaxy with the Emperor when he was alive is almost enough to bring her to her knees, in a blind panic and close to hyperventilating.

“There is a man in the alliance who can do what you can.” The officer speaks again after a short span of silence. His eyes bore into Rey’s and her stomach drops accordingly. “I will forward a transfer to his division.”

Perpetually panicked now, Rey opens her mouth in a plead. “No, I-“

But the old man waves her pathetic attempt away. “It’s better for people like you to stick together.”

And this, as they say, is the end of the discussion.

* * *

It would be proper to say that Rey expected a grand entrance from master Luke Skywalker, just how she’s used to. At least, she thought she did, because the last time she was on Ach-To, Luke not only flung his father’s lightsaber over his shoulder in a most dramatic manner, but he also destroyed one poor stone hut because he found his nephew hanging out with Rey one night.

Granted, she’s never spent that much time with Luke, but it was enough to be able to make something of an impression of him. So, it’s safe to say that Rey expects the man to be how she remembers him – heroic, sometimes wise, sometimes agitated and most of the time, dramatically inclined. Just like the rest of his family.

But, in a wild turn of fate, young Luke Skywalker is barely beginning to encompass the traits of an old man, harried by life and his failures. The blonde, young man that offers a large smile full of teeth when Rey walks through the doorway, blue eyes glinting with curiosity and excitement, are certainly not the same ones that silently weighted her skills on Ach-To so long ago.

“Hello, I’m Luke Skywalker! It’s very nice to meet you!”

Luke extends a hand, _his right hand_ and where it will be machine and metal parts, now there’s only flesh and bone that Rey stares at for a little too long. She quickly shakes his hand with a tremulous smile over her lips and hopes that her silence might be attributed to being overwhelmed by his presence. Which she is, but not for the reasons the Alliance might think of.

“What’s your name?” The impossibly young Luke asks curiously, and Rey wants to bash her head against the nearest solid fixture.

Which just happens to be R2-D2. The droid is rolling towards her at a concerningly high speed and Rey has to take a step to the side to avoid being trampled over by him.

“Artoo!” Luke exclaims, partly accusing, but mostly worried. “What’s the problem?”

Artoo starts off in a series of beeps and boops that has Rey raising an eyebrow. She mostly understands what the droid is saying and it’s concerning the need to gather for a briefing on the super secret mission that Luke will go on soon.

Despite the urgency, Luke waves the droid away with a huff and an exasperated grin, which promptly falls when he sees Rey’s knowing expression.

“Sorry, uh,” he rubs the back of his neck and his ears even turn slightly pink, “Artoo likes to talk my ear off with the things he hears around base, but half the things he says aren’t even true!”

Artoo offers a beep that is both a swear word and a denial of his fabricated implausibility. Luke discreetly kicks the old droid away, shooting him a pointed glare and Rey can’t help herself. She giggles, palm covering her mouth because she might as well be walking in a dream.

This Luke – he’s _definitely not_ the Luke Skywalker she has met. He doesn’t even compare. He is so, _so_ human when compared to that man with hollow eyes, living in exile on the least reachable place in the galaxy. This Luke is prompted by such big displays of emotion, punctuated by easy smiles and grins and friendly gestures that tell of how kind he is, even around strangers. The fact that he even accepted to meet Rey when he’s obviously no Jedi himself or in search of other pilots to join his squadron, shows how big his heart is.

_Kriff_.

It’s even sadder now.

Rey clears her throat and the sound carries over Artoo’s whining and makes Luke fix his earnest eyes on her. Rey basically hates it because she almost spills everything right then and there.

“I’m Rey.” Her voice is all scratchy and she flails for something else to say because she’s sure that Luke will start asking questions soon enough. She caught the old officer instructing Luke to run an expansive questioning on her. It looks like the rebels want to know who they’re allowing entry to in their ranks and Rey cannot fault them for that. The Resistance also did that.

Luke is watching her, with an encouraging tilt of his lips and an earnest expression on his face. Rey wonders how he’s not with the interrogation unit. He’d have made a fine interrogator.

First things first – she needs to establish a pattern to her actions and words. She is Rey, but this Rey, who is she? In a split-second decision, Rey decides to go with the safest path.

“You’re the pilot who blew up the Death Star!”

And saved the whole _kriffing_ galaxy from the Empire. Who established a new Jedi Order. Who betrayed his nephew and let him fall to the dark side. Who offered Rey three lessons that proved to her, more than anything else, that Ben Solo could be saved from his path of self-destruction. Who bought the Resistance time to escape Crait by keeping the First Order occupied. The man who died a hero in the end, no matter his many hiccups along the way.

Rey bites down on her tongue because Luke smiles indulgently at her, as if he’s heard that a thousand times over and he is just as many times tired of it.

“Yeah, that’s me.” He’s says, deflated. “So, Rey,” she all but books it out of there when he sits down on the crate behind him. The yellow leather jacket he wears shifts out of the way to reveal the very familiar hilt of the Skywalker family’s legacy saber. Her stomach churns and Rey knows what is coming next, “where are you from?”

“Jakku.”

Luke winces and his mouth immediately puckers like he just tasted something bitter.

“Man, that’s kind of nowhere.” He allows through slightly gritted teeth. He huffs out a derisive laugh. “And I thought that Tatooine is at the backend of the galaxy!”

Rey shakes her head because this is certainly not the first time _she’s_ had to deal with comments like these.

“Apparently, you can do worse.”

Luke laughs again and then rubs the bridge of his nose.

“This means that you are pretty good at fighting. How are you with ships?”

Rey shrugs and shifts her weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortable under Luke’s scrutiny. Old or young, his gaze is as sharp as ever.

“Can fly ‘em pretty well. And I can repair them just as well.”

Luke grins and it reaches his eyes. Impossibly, they become a starker blue, like that wide expanse of water on Takodana the Falcon glided over on its way to Maz’s castle. 

“That’s great! There’s always need of good pilots around here!”

His blazing expectation is much more than Rey can handle at once, so she only offers a tight smile and keeps her mouth shut.

Artoo chooses that moment to intervene and reminds Luke that he needs to get going if he wants to get to the meeting on time. Luke grimaces as he seems to dread it, but he sits up and makes to obediently follow the droid sliding away. But then he stops, just when Rey thought that she got away scot free.

Luke looks back to her, his gaze stonier than before but and holding a sliver of that appraising light she remembers so well from old Luke.

“You should come with me.” He says, suddenly assertive.

His words make Rey sputter.

“W-What? But I-uh, I mean I don’t-“ Rey struggles, she really does, but she still tries her best. Either way, Luke doesn’t care. He grabs her forearm and starts dragging her behind him, despite her obvious protests.

“But I thought it’s a secret mission!” She finally yells to the back of his head, a last ditch maneuver.

“So, you _do_ understand Artoo!” Luke exclaims victoriously. Rey bites her lip to stop a groan from escaping. Her struggles do not stop but Luke’s hold, while still insanely tight, is less aggressive on her slim wrist. “They told me to keep an eye on you.” He stops speaking and backtracks because it does sound pretty bad when he says it like that. Rey almost stopped breathing for a second there. “Actually, they said I should help you with the Force and let you join my squadron. Which I have no problem with!” He hastens to reassure, even though Rey didn’t need him to. “So, if we’re going to be a Force-sensitive tag team, then you should come with us on this mission.”

He suddenly turns to her just after they round another corner and Rey all but slams into him at the abrupt halt. The grin he wears is something she’s never imagined belonging on old Luke’s face before. It’s, if she is honest, _shit-eating._

“You’ll also get to meet the others!”

Rey swallows and feels like a TIE fighter crashed into her. At this point in the conversation, she hopes that one will soon.

“The others?” Rey all but squeaks and she swears that Luke’s grin gets larger.

“Yeah, my friends!”

The joke is on him because Rey knows very well who _his friends_ are, but this doesn’t mean it gets better. Actually, the joke really is on Rey after all. Because no one but her would have the luck to get to meet not only Luke Skywalker in his youth, but Han Solo and Leia Organa as well. Now that she thinks on it, Luke and Leia must be around Rey’s age in this time.

Which is so strange – seeing people that she knows are older than her suddenly be forty years younger. This brings her back to when she’s met them for the first time, but somewhat amplified.

Luke brings her to a nondescript door that he thumbs open to reveal a large dark room. The holoprojector is on and the occupants are staring at a map of a planet Rey has probably never heard of before.

In a flash of clarity, Rey tries for freedom one last time. “But I don’t have the high enough clearance necessary-“

The military jargon slips off her lips, a reiteration of the many variations she has heard coming from the General’s mouth when she was telling Poe Dameron off for the various unnecessary and straight up infringements he liked to apply over his actual orders.

Luke vaults a chuckle as he all but pushes her into the room. “That’s no problem, don’t worry!”

But Rey worries very much, especially when every gaze in the room suddenly gathers on her person.

“Who’s this, kid?”

Thank the Force that the room is barely illuminated, otherwise they could see the tears steadily flowing down Rey’s cheeks. She keeps back as Luke walks up to the holoprojector. The light casts strange shadows over his face as he studies the map intently.

“She’s a new recruit.” Luke answers Han’s question easily and there’s a huff from another side of the room.

“And you up and brought her here?” Han’s voice sounds incredulous and Rey chants inside her mind that it’s just a voice out of a dark abyss and not a real person. Her chest constricts with grief anyways and the memories of _that day_ on Starkiller are not late to appear.

“How many times do I have to tell you that new recruits are not allowed on such high-profile missions, Luke?” Leia’s voice is irate and there’s the distinct sound of Han clearing his throat.

There’s a whining sound and Rey realizes that Chewie is also here, as is Threepio and his unmistakable golden finish.

Luke ventures another chuckle and Rey is all but taken aback by his flippant demeanor to Leia’s ire.

“They put me in charge of her-“ Luke turns to her and Rey takes a step back, afraid that he will spot her wet cheeks. “Sorry! I know it sounds awful, but that’s practically what they did!”

Han laughs and Chewie roars.

Leia clicks her tongue loudly but makes no move to throw Rey out of the room.

“Hey! The more the merrier, right?” Han offers as a joke, though Rey got to know him well enough to understand that he’s at least half serious.

“Oh, dear! Dragging another poor soul on such a horrendous mission!” Threepio wails as he paces through the room until he bumps into Artoo. At which point the droids start a heated conversation that Rey has no hope of following.

Now that her presence is somewhat approved of, she surreptitiously wipes her face and her eyes with the sleeve of her jumper and hopes that she doesn’t look more awful than before. Her steps are light on the metal floor and her muscles are wound tight as she approaches the holoprojector.

She feels the weight of Luke’s gaze rest on her face, but Rey keeps her eyes on the map.

“It’s nice to meet you.” She offers when she finally remembers her manners. “I’m Rey.”

“Han Solo.” The smuggler answers from the other side of the map. “The roaring guy is my friend Chewie.”

Chewie huffs and grunts. Rey smiles at the Wookie’s words.

“I am Leia Organa.” Leia’s tone is snippy, but Rey understands why. Leia keeps to protocol so religiously because it’s the only thing that can hold the troops of such an underground organization into a semblance of order. To have it so blatantly disregarded is a crime in her eyes and Rey feels bad to be a part of the problem, but it’s all Luke’s fault so she won’t allow herself to be guilty over someone else’s stubbornness. 

“And I am C-3PO, human-cyborg relations!”

“Yeah, yeah! Can it, goldenrod, we’ve got a mission to discuss here!”

Rey fights a grin and steadfastly ignores the sting in her eyes as she listens to Leia detail the outline of the plan.

It sounds like a standard hit and run mission on an Imperial military base that will be covert for an insanely short while, when Rey connects a couple of dots she didn’t intend to.

“Wait – so the Falcon will be on Cymoon already?”

“The Falcon leaves today, newbie.” Han comments and despite the nickname, Rey’s knees knock as they tremble under the table. “Chewie will pilot it and will keep watch until we get there.”

There goes her shot at getting out of here smoothly. Or at all, if Cymoon goes wrong for her.

The smuggler turns to his friend and Rey traces their unclear silhouettes through the greenish tinge of the holomap. “And you better keep her safe!”

There is a scoff and it’s no exercise of the imagination to figure that Leia rolls her eyes along with that scoff.

“We are leaving right behind the Falcon, but we will make a detour to a nearby system on the Alliance’s behalf.” Leia explains, straightening up and crossing her arms over her chest. “This will give us the proper time gap that Chewie needs to get into position. It will also give us plausible deniability in case anyone asks any questions.”

“No one is gonna ask anything!” Han waves away her concerns.

“Why? Are you going to distract them with your _charming mumbling_ , Han?” Luke quips, Han throws him a glare and Rey feels a sob gather in the base of her throat at the easy banter that passes between the three of them.

Leia snorts. “What charm?”

“I wish to inform you, your Worship, that I’m full of charm!”

Chewie roars and Rey grips the edge of the projector to steady herself. _This_ – this is all too much for her in such short time. She needs to get out of here, out of this timeline, where everything hurts and every second reminds her of the amazing people that have died.

It’s also _kriffing_ unfair that she gets to be here when Ben cannot. _He_ deserves to see his family, to be with his _parents_ , not Rey, who appropriated a name that definitely does not belong to her out of a denial born because she is running away from a past and a lineage imposed onto her. She feels like a fucking fraud in this moment, where the past converges to bring this group together in one place.

Of which these three people who, even more than before, have become so heartbreakingly human in her eyes. They are not folktales and legends anymore, names whispered by the lonely and the desperate. They are real and painfully human and _breathing_.

“Any other complaints?” Leia’s clipped question brings Rey back from the brink and she blinks away the angry sheen of tears clouding her eyes.

She shakes her head along with Luke, because at this point it’s all she can do. Leia nods and dismisses them to prepare.

Rey walks on automatic legs, driving her nowhere but only far, _far_ away from here.

Luke jogs up and catches her before she can get out of the door.

“See you at the hangar in six standard hours, Rey.”

Rey nods again and all but sprints out of there.

She feels untethered as she walks the deserted halls of the Alliance base and she swears that ghosts follow her because of the shadows she catches at the corner of her eyes now and then.

Rey passes through more corridors than she can remember, turns so many corners and scuffs shoulders with so many people who are hurrying in the other direction. She doesn’t know the way back anymore and if she’s going to be honest, she doesn’t really want to. Maybe if she gets so utterly lost, she will have an excuse to not go on this mission. A mission Rey has no place on, in a timeline she certainly has no place in.

Everything is the wrong way around, and Rey feels sick of standing with her head upside down. The Force has been dreadfully silent as well, almost as if things do not need its influence anymore to get even more screwed. Rey is starting to hate this all-powerful energy with a passion.

Her legs burn by the time she hits her third dead end. The path behind is the only way back and Rey ignores her growling stomach and short, fast breaths and continues on her way to nowhere. It’s getting harder to breathe the longer she walks and soon there are black spots swimming in her field of vision. Rey knows enough about her body and these specific symptoms to understand that she has maybe pushed herself too far this time.

A door opens down a few feet away from her. Two men dressed in pilot suits exit without a glance behind, too engrossed in their loud conversation. Rey catches the hint of an empty room and she all but dives inside before the door can close that opportunity forever.

The bunk is heavenly silent and Rey all but collapses into one bunk, one of the two that are patted down neatly and not left in disarray. Say what you want about soldiers, but most of them will refuse to tidy up their beds because there’s no time, something Rey sympathizes with because she also refuses to do that out of the same principle. It will just get undone when she sleeps in it the next time.

The bunkbed creaks under her unexpected weight, but Rey ignores it as she ignores the muted sound of the large ship’s engines. It’s a particularity of outer space that she doesn’t really enjoy.

She closes her eyes, reveling in the sudden black behind her eyelids and she feels her muscles relax. Rey sighs and promises the empty room that she will be up for that mission. Everything is obviously going along with the will of the Force, otherwise she wouldn’t have been thrown here in the first place. And as usual, nothing is ever really easy or straightforward, not in her life.

Rey feels consciousness slip through her fingers but there’s still one thing she has to remind herself of in order to really make sure that she will be in that hangar later.

“Ben…” It comes out as a sigh but it’s loud enough to resonate through the empty room. Rey falls asleep with his sweet smile at the forefront of her mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Elomin](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Elomin)   
>  [Rodian](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Rodian)   
>  [Heptooinian](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Heptooinian)   
>  [Mirialan](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Mirialan)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mission on Cymoon1 in the comics was fire🔥 and it inspired me quite a lot with this one  
> This chapter also has maybe my favorite interaction Rey has on her part in this story... and I will stop right here
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy!

* * *

**CYMOON 1**

There is an insistent beeping next to her ear and Rey frowns in her sleep, fighting to keep the last dregs of unconsciousness from leaving her. Unfortunately, whatever is making that noise is determined to wake her up for good.

When she groggily opens her eyes to the dim lighting of the room, Rey finds not only Artoo propped right on the edge of her illegally appropriated bed, but three other figures behind him.

One of them flicks the light switch and Rey shoots up to a sitting position with a small groan of defiance. Figures that she is getting kicked out, but at least they could’ve done it in a more merciful manner and thrown her out while she was still sleeping.

“You should start asking for a fee, Khalon!” One of the pilots laughs and shoots his friend Khalon an overexaggerated wink.

Rey and Khalon both roll their eyes simultaneously, though Khalon forwards an answer as well.

“I should, shouldn’t I?” He says with a bemused smile, gaze flicking to rest on Rey for one moment too long. She suddenly feels a sliver of embarrassment for falling asleep in this poor guy’s bed and not even trying to appear flustered at being caught. Khalon looks back to his friends with a smirk. “I see that ladies are more likely to choose nicely made beds.”

Rey wants to slap her forehead at their behavior, though it is somewhat amusing all the same.

“Yes, your bed is very nice and comfortable.” They look taken aback when she finally speaks, as if they hadn’t expected the felon to speak back. She pats the bed, uselessly trying to restore some order to the creases she made. Giving up, Rey clears her throat and sits up because she’s wasted enough time for both parties. “Sorry for that, by the way. And thanks for not throwing me out in the hallway while I was sleeping.”

She sidesteps Artoo and the little droid trails after her as she makes her way to the door.

“Don’t worry!”

“If you wanna do this again, you can have my bed next time!”

Their yells follow her to the end of the hallway and by the time Rey breaks into an overcrowded hall, she’s still smiling. Nice aromas waft into her path and Rey figures that the mess hall is indeed very close by. She should try and eat something before they take off.

Suddenly reminded of her impending mission, Rey looks down at Artoo, still curiously following in her wake.

“Can you tell me the time please, Artoo?”

The droid beeps in short order and Rey’s eyes widen in surprise as she utters a small curse under her breath. Artoo has informed her that there is less than half an hour left to the appointed time, so she needs to move fast, even though she has a feeling that she won’t be able to get a meal from the mess hall. The hallway is too full of people to not be dinnertime already, which means that the line will be long and winding.

Jarringly, Rey is right, and she grumbles under her breath when she enters the mess hall. Artoo keeps telling her that Luke sent him to keep an eye on her and make sure that she will be on the tarmac on time, but Rey has no energy for any kind of rebuke to shove at the poor droid, so she grits her teeth and ignores him as best as she can. Rey decides to take a look at the front of the line and maybe she can grovel for someone to take a ration bar for her along with their own portion.

The line is excruciatingly long, but against all her expectations, Rey finds Chewbacca right behind the man being served his food and she all but cries out with relief. Instead of making a fool of herself to a Chewie who has yet to put up with Rey and her particular personality, she taps him softly on the arm.

Chewie narrows his eyes at her, but his words are polite, if a bit miffed to be addressed by Rey in person. She thinks that the Wookie is taken aback to see her voluntarily speak with him because he thought she wouldn’t understand Shyriiwook. Rey offers a sincere smile as she speaks in a low voice.

“Sorry to impose, but can you ask for a bonus portion for me, too? I won’t make it on time if I’m going to wait in this line.”

She jabs a thumb pointedly and Chewie grunts in agreement. Rey steps back from the line and exhales in relief at the incredible luck she just had. Now she doesn’t need to go hungry or try and scour the ship they will take on the mission for something edible.

Chewie exits the line, victorious and brings both of their trays to a pair of empty seats. Rey sits down, suddenly ravenous, and proceeds to tear into her surprisingly delicious nerf stew. Chewie and anyone unlucky enough to be around Rey when she eats stop and stare, morbidly curious, but Rey is long used to such looks and simply digs into her food with more gusto at the sight of their appalled expressions.

Chewbacca shakes his head and starts eating, exhibiting quite the same manners as Rey, which immediately makes everyone roll their eyes and resume their own meals. 

There is not much conversation until both Rey and Chewie have finished their food.

She blinks at the sudden inquiry from Chewie. The Wookie studies her, fur slipping into his eyes though he doesn’t seem to care.

Rey shifts in her seat and clasps her hands between her thighs.

“I learned it from off-worlders when I was on Jakku, but I’m pretty good with a lot of languages.” She shrugs, as she does not hold a pertinent explanation to offer him. “I think it’s got something to do with the Force.”

Chewie nods, humming as he seems to mull this over.

“You believe in the Force then?” She feels compelled to ask, even though she knows that he does.

Back in her time, she and Chewie did not have this conversation, but Rey knows that the Wookie understands what the Force is and holds quite a deep belief in this mystical energy, which is a great contrast to Han’s loud views against it.

Chewie nods silently and quirks a smile full of teeth. His growls are lilting, and Rey can listen to him talk for hours.

She smirks at the translation of his quite underhanded comment.

“Yes well, your friend Han is entitled to his own views.”

A whine, a little unbecoming of him.

“No, you surely don’t need to resort to that! I, for one, think that it’s funny when people try to explain the crazy things the Force can cause.”

And she really, really does. Rey had a great time making fun of Poe and Connis while they tried to come up with increasingly crazy explanations for Force-induced phenomena. In contrast, and well out of her range of petulant use of Force stuff, Finn and Rose simply took everything in stride without batting an eye because ‘that’s how the Force works’.

A half-hearted howl.

“Oh! Really?”

“Are you two enjoying your date so far?” That scratchy voice, coupled with an irate tone that is usually reserved for well deserving idiots can only belong to Han Solo.

Rey dares a look behind her and finds the smuggler quite close, hands on his hips and a slight glare. Offhandedly, she wonders how late they are.

Chewie grunts and launches a series of growls.

“Oh, really?” Han deadpans with a lethal dose of sarcasm. “And you just conveniently forgot that they are booting our asses out of here by eight hundred standard?”

Chewie looks flustered for a moment and Rey suddenly feels bad for distracting him. She turns to tell Han that it’s her fault when she finds herself at the end of a terribly accusing gaze. It seems that words are not necessary here.

Artoo, the traitor, rolls backwards and forwards, as if bored but interested in how this will turn out.

Uncharacteristically, and much to the dismay of many in the mess hall, Han steps back and crosses his arms.

“Well don’t sit there like a couple of banthas. Get your asses moving before her Highness explodes and takes the whole base with her!”

Now Rey understands Han’s restraint. He’s more worried about Leia kicking his ass for not taking care of his co-pilot than he is about giving them a right chew off. Rey doesn’t know if she should be grateful for that.

Han walks hurriedly to the hangar and Rey does her best to keep up with his and Chewie’s long strides. Artoo sidles up along her and beeps loudly.

“Luke’s already at the _Falcon_ , yeah. He’s trying to keep Leia distracted until I get you there.”

The hangar is strikingly colder than the rest of the ship and Rey rubs at her arms as she traverses the length of it when she hears Leia’s angry question from the Falcon’s boarding ramp.

“Where were you, Chewie? You should have already left!”

_Kriff_ , Rey really screwed up. She hopes against hope that this doesn’t further influence future events, though knowing her good fortune, she shouldn’t be holding her breath.

Leia shoots her a well-deserved scathing look as Chewie grumbles but dutifully climbs into the _Falcon_.

“Now get in there and be useful!” Han is pointing a warning finger in Threepio’s direction, though the gesture works less the more the droid whines about being included in the mission.

They watch the _Falcon_ take off and Rey feels her heart sink the further the old ship flies away, but she soldiers on with the notion that she will see it again very soon. She follows Han and Leia, now bickering, to another ship parked a little way away. A rusty and dirty one that has seen much, much better days. The shuttle seems smaller than the _Falcon_ and when Rey takes a quick look inside, she finds only empty containers and various crates overflowing with spare ship parts.

“There you guys are!” Luke’s greeting breaks the spell and Rey takes her eyes off the motivators and power convertors she spotted. The scavenger side of her has already started calculating the portion ratio per piece quality and it’s still a conscious effort to make herself stop and pay attention to the important things.

“Now that we are back on schedule,” Leia is professional enough not to shoot Rey anymore withering glares, though her derisive tone underlines enough, “let’s get going.”

Rey watches the three of them with Artoo, curious why they are not diving into the ship to prepare for take-off.

Han rubs the back of his neck and his eyes move from Luke to Leia and then rest on the far wall of the hangar. In contrast, Luke keeps throwing Leia meaningful looks that pass mostly ignored because the princess glares silently at the floor and fumes.

This is… more than confusing. Rey feels like an invader of this strangely intimate space. Artoo beeps and the moment shatters.

Han climbs in first with a grunt. Leia meets Luke’s eyes over Artoo’s steady fussing and then follows suit. And Rey stands there, looking on like an absolute idiot when Luke turns to her with a small, strained smile and gestures wordlessly to her.

She knows that it’s way past the time to refuse going along. They are, however unrealistically, depending on her, so Rey climbs in with a deceptively heavy heart.

After Luke clears the gangway and pats Artoo’s dome affectionately, he makes to climb up to the cockpit but stops and turns to Rey.

“You can stay here if you wish. Or you can join us in the cockpit. There are four seats available.”

Rey debates the matter over in her mind and finds herself quite unable to face the possibility of being in such close quarters with them for such a long while. Maybe once she’s actually gotten her head wrapped around the idea and is emotionally prepared, Rey will grudgingly join them. But until then,

“I think I will stay here for the moment. Keep Artoo company.” She offers a strained smile, but Luke doesn’t call her on it.

He simply hums an affirmative and resumes climbing.

After he disappears, Rey turns towards Artoo, but the droid is already plugged in and ponderously silent. She struggles not to take offense at that and decides to use the length of this journey to investigate the interesting crates of ship parts innocently lying around.

* * *

The journey is long and winding, not that she can see anything or has any clue where they are. The void of space surrounds them and the Force is appropriately unhelpful, but Rey has been down here for quite a while now.

At some point she manages to string a few discarded parts together and fashion a small jammer that ultimately proves to be a failure. Rey isn’t deterred though and tries again, this time building something much a more complicated circuitry.

At some other point Artoo ambles over and watches over her silently, occasionally offering a remark on her work or some useful advice. Other thoughts occupy her mind constantly, never allowing her a moment of peace and the opportunity to truly become immersed in her work. These thoughts are not quite welcome, and Rey truly feels like an idiot to be allowing such frivolous things get the best of her, but a part of her cannot help it.

The General’s opinion is something ranked very high on her list of personal priorities and, barring unexpected factors such as her time travelling, Leia’s opinion is still incredibly important to her. And yet she seems to have butchered her chances at a friendship with the princess. She hasn’t treated Rey bad – the derision she received because of her blunder with the departure time is on much a smaller scale, even compared to the usual quantity she throws at Han, but it’s still there. Rey also feels guilty for almost _kriffing_ up their mission – a mission on which she shouldn’t have been here part of in the first place.

She considers apologizing, but Rey knows that Leia is not the type to keep a grudge over such petty matters when she has more important things to have a grudge over. Instead of throwing empty excuses and wasting Leia’s time, Rey figures that the next best thing she can do to reclaim a little trust from the General’s younger self is to do her part in this mission well and without screwing up.

The small device in her hands lights up and Rey smiles, glad that things finally seem to start working as they should. Artoo rocks in place, a sort of victory dance.

The ship shudders around them and a rather strong shake causes Rey to yelp and drop the assembled parts on the surface of the crate she has previously customized into a makeshift worktable. She looks up as Han drops down to the floor of the container hold with Luke just behind him.

“It’s your turn, Artoo.” Luke smiles patiently at the droid and Artoo gently bumps him in the knees in understanding.

The droid rolls towards the exit ramp and Rey watches him wait for the doors to open, curiosity gnawing at her.

“What’s going on?” She turns her head just in time to catch the last wisps of Luke and Han’s whispered conversation.

“Ah, nothing.” Han says and it’s obviously something. Even Luke seems chagrined at the awful lie.

“How did you survive in the smuggling business again?” The younger man shoots under his breath, but Han catches it and levels him with a glare.

“You should go help Leia in the cockpit, newbie. We’ll handle it here.”

Despite the irritation that shoots up her spine at being so ultimately dismissed, Rey stands up and makes her way up to the cockpit, reminding herself that this is neither the time nor the place to play warrior. Who knows what crazy stuff they are trying to pull? If nothing else, then Rey will stay in the cockpit and make sure to be the getaway pilot in case it does come to that.

Leia is silent while Rey settles into the free seat on her right. It seems like the boys appropriated the roles of pilot and co-pilot and Leia’s disapproval at the arrangement oozes in the Force around her.

For the first time since she arrived here, Rey wonders if Leia is aware of her Force sensitivity yet or not. Actually, now that her mind is working on this track, Rey all but walked in blind on this mission. She barely knows what galactic standard date she’s currently in and, to make matters worse, she doesn’t have the slightest clue what the people she should be protecting with her life and vice-versa are like in this time. This is more frightening than she’d like to admit.

She steels her resolve and asks then. “What date would we be arriving on Cymoon?” Rey’s stellar idea of an opening questions resonates through the small cabin and Leia’s continued silence all but slaps her in the face.

She’s looking straight out of the window, gladly ignoring Rey’s very presence. Her brows are scrunched up together and Rey is startled to realize that from this angle she can see a smudge of Ben’s profile on Leia’s features. In the form of the princess’ lips and how her long lashes cast slim shadows on the soft skin under her eyes. Ben’s got his nose from Han, but Rey is amazed to find out that his mother’s ears are slightly sticking out, much like her son’s, though it’s barely noticeable because of the way Leia wears her hair.

“Are you alright, Rey?” Leia’s voice brings her back to reality and Rey chokes back a sob and clears her throat, trying to put some semblance of order to her roiling emotions.

She swears that she saw Ben’s face flash before her eyes for a short moment.

Leia watches her, patient and curious, a small dose of concern reflected in her large expressive eyes and Rey is relieved to find out that she’s not as hated as she has thought.

“Yes, sorry it’s nothing!” Rey says quickly, too quickly to be really nothing. “I just got lost in thought is all.”

Leia is certainly not buying her story, but she’s also graceful enough to let it slide. If nothing else, the General has always been good at minding her own business when the situation calls for it.

The princess turns her head, back to the world outside the transparisteel viewport. She speaks after another minute of silence.

“To answer your earlier question, we will probably get there around the 25th.”

Rey nods and bites her cheek because her plan backfired in the worst way possible. An approximate date would be nice, though it seems that she’d have to do it the hard way.

“I’m sorry about derailing the mission.” She feels the urge to apologize again even if Leia didn’t mention anything about it.

“What’s done is done. If it turns out alright, then I have no complaints.”

Just as Rey doesn’t like to keep carrying the guilt, Leia has no need to hold it against her. There is no need to forgive something that doesn’t matter anymore, though Rey is a little more satisfied that she took this off her chest, if only for her own peace of mind.

Leia’s swift exhale gets her attention, but the other woman’s face is relaxed as her eyes traces the three figures outside.

“Thank the Force it’s done.”

Rey strains to hear her whisper, even though she’s sitting right next to her.

Footsteps on the level below announce that Luke, Han and Artoo are back on the ship. The gangplank closes with a definite screech and loud voices flow in an easy banter through the gangway.

Han’s head appears first, and he takes one look at the two passengers present and presses his lips together, fighting back a smirk or a smile. Leia shoots him a glare just to be sure that he won’t forget his place in this world.

“Made friends yet?” The smuggler quips as he takes a seat and starts flicking switches in rapid order.

“It’s none of your business.” Leia snips back with a scowl. She settles back in her seat, but the glare is still glued to the backrest of Han’s chair. “Let’s get out of this place already.” 

“Yeah, yeah, your Worship. I got it already!”

Leia catches Rey’s gaze pointedly and rolls her eyes behind Han’s back. Luke passes between them, glancing from one woman to the other before he plops into the co-pilot’s seat and says to Han out of the corner of his mouth.

“See, you didn’t have to try so hard.”

Leia kicks the back of Luke’s chair, which is coincidentally right in front of her.

“I’m actually shocked that no one started shooting at you two nerf herders!”

“Aw! That’s how little trust you got in us, Leia?”

“I’ve got more trust in you than I do in mister scruffiness next to you-“

“Hey, hey! Easy with that mouth, your Highness!”

Rey watches the argument develop at its own pace, completely detached from the action and glad for it. She tries to commit every single second to memory, so that when she gets to Ben again, someday, at some point later down the line, maybe he will want to hear about this.

The rest of the journey passes in something of a blur. They got ten hours to get to Cymoon1, but Rey gets tired of sitting around after about hour number three. Her head is also reeling for more than one reason, though the main thing that shocks her completely is the level of ruckus these three people – _legends_ , the galaxy has been calling them legends for quite a while now – can make. They are, quite surprisingly, worse than Rey’s ever been when around Poe, Finn or Rose.

These three are on another level, and Rey is barely able to keep her head above the water because of their presence alone. The last thing she needs is to run her mouth and ruin everything.

The main hold is cold and refreshing and Rey revels in the quiet as she tinkers under Artoo’s steady camera lens. Yes, this – this is what she enjoys most.

* * *

Cymoon1 is the most disgusting planet she’s ever seen. And Rey has seen Exegol. But the desolate, haunting Sith planet does not begin to compare with the hub of activity that is Cymoon1 and the millions of lifeforms that struggle to survive on it. The trash heaps are worse than everything else, climbing to the height of mountains made of scrap metal. Discarded and forgotten things pollute the very fabric of this planet, though something in Rey struggles to escape and inspect every little part, assess it for portions and maybe whisk it away to sell it later.

Just before they were due to exit hyperspace, Han climbed down with Luke and Leia in row, and Rey was compelled to follow. Down in the hold, the smuggler thrust a heavy body armour into her arms and told her to get dressed. Rey remained frozen in place for a short moment, struggling to keep the various pieces of the getup from falling to the floor and she watched with an open mouth as Luke and Leia received the same treatment.

Paradoxically, Leia showed no aversion to climbing into the ridiculous armour, but Luke scrunched his nose and started complaining loudly and ardently about it. He actually gave up and did as told about halfway through, at Han’s barked an order to ‘get in there, smart ass’ and then the smuggler resumed shooting them amused glances as he pretended to offer a semblance of privacy.

By the time they safely docked on Cymoon1, Rey was sweating under the heavy red armour and her knees were kind of wobbly from both stress and the weight. Han strolled right through them and Rey fought to get her head in the game because _this_ _is real_ and _she needs to get it right and get hom_ e.

Now they are led through the factory and Rey is for once thankful for the mask covering her face because she’s never seen anything like this.

Rows upon rows of TIE carcasses, pieces of engines, hyperspace capacitors, wings – everything to build and sustain an army is getting assembled here, on these production lines that they pass through.

Rey’s every instinct screams to destroy everything in her path, but she reminds herself that this is exactly what they are here to do.

The gullible Imperial officer is talking and Rey all but directly snarls at the disgusting man. She can feel the power hungry acolyte he really is and it sickens her. It is disheartening to find out how little things have changed from the transition of the Empire into the First Order, though she shouldn’t be surprised to find this out.

The First Order rose from the scattered ashes of the Empire and every high-ranking officer in the First Order was a horrendous person descended from Imperials and she will never be moved from her contempt for them, no matter how many sob stories she hears.

Yes, the children they kidnapped and indoctrinated into becoming Stormtroopers cannot be blamed because they had no other choice. But those high-ranking officials did have choices and they decided to exercise them and hurt millions of others.

The troopers walking next to her instinctually shift a little further away at the strain in the aura surrounding her and Rey struggles to keep calm. She feels Luke’s presence next to her, prodding through the Force with a finger made of energy but Rey waves it away just as nonverbally. The last thing she needs right now is young Luke Skywalker accusing her to be a dark side user, though it will certainly award him consistency at the least.

They are in the middle of a nondescript hallway when Artoo gives the signal. Rey fights to keep from using the Force more than necessary but the troopers fall easily enough even without it.

The Imperial officer all but ushers them in the right direction after he finds himself all alone and with four blasters aimed in his direction.

Rey sheds her armour gradually as she quickly runs after Luke. Han and Leia are in the lead and when they stop and hide, so do Rey and Luke. She senses another couple of lifeforms in the next room, but they retreat without interference and Rey sighs in relief as they filter into the power station room.

“Newbie takes the other door. Luke, you watch the one we came in from.” Han directs as he and Leia start pressing buttons and ripping cables.

Rey keeps her eyes down the hall and concentrates on checking out for any form of life that might be brave enough to approach. Her senses stretch and she grimaces when the particular stench of this base threatens to overwhelm her. The coast is clear for the moment and no danger is coming from this side of the base.

Rey closes her eyes and concentrates, trying to bat away the awful desperation she senses pouring off every inch in this factory. Pain and suffering are the norm in here and through the darkness, Rey can almost make out a myriad of other signatures, huddled together, like they are locked up.

And they are, Rey concludes when she sharpens her resolve into concentration. There are some living beings close to their location, but she finds a couple of cages somewhere on the other side of the base.

She all but sees Luke’s bright beacon in the Force enter the power station room, surrounded by a large group of beings and Rey allows a smile to stretch over her lips. She should have expected something like this to happen.

Rey’s just about to inform them of the other prisons she has discovered when a wave of burning hatred and bottomless anger washes over her and it’s nothing she’s ever felt before. Such raw feelings they are, as if they are the sparking end of an unprotected wire, threatening to blow everything up in their path. Rey has been in Snoke’s presence, has felt his claws dig deep into her skull and her mind, but that monster was a far-off call from the one making its way into the factory. No, the last time she’s felt like this was when Emperor Palpatine was stealing her and Ben’s life force, absorbing it and making it his own.

Rey hears a rasping breath in the backdrop of darkness of her closed eyes, a thing eerily similar to how Kylo Ren sounded speaking through that blasted mask but much more rhythmical. The signature she sees in her mind’s eye is a volatile thing yet there’s a clear leash extending from it, like a restraining collar made of the Force itself.

“Hey kid, you alive?”

Rey snaps her eyes open and inhales greedily. Her heart beats much too fast and she feels like vomiting, but she bites her tongue and offers a small nod in response because Han is watching her with worry.

Leia looks close to arguing, but something in Rey’s eyes must tell her that the situation is more demanding than Rey’s state of mind right now.

“Right,” Han seems completely unconvinced, “we gotta get out of here. Chewie!”

“That might be hard to do.” Rey croaks out at the same time Chewie roars through the comm that Darth Vader has just landed on the roof of the factory.

Rey’s face is a mixture of bewilderment and shock while the rest of the group has a collective panic attack.

“What do you mean Vader?! Chewie stand down!”

“No, Chewie! I order you to shoot him right now!” Leia screams over Han’s orders and Rey flinches at the incredible volume.

Luke looks between them, his face twisted into a mask of denial and resolve. Rey bites her lip hard enough to draw blood as the alarm starts inside the factory and bathes them all in a blood red light.

She feels a change in the invisible currents around them. The Force moves about in abrupt bursts, as if snatched from one side and then to the other with no apparent rhyme. Something dark and suffocating is steadily closing in on them.

Rey sees Han, Leia and the slaves start in a seemingly random direction and she follows, subtly keeping an eye on Luke because she swears that he’s about to do something very stupid.

They are ambushed, as per usual, by two squads of troopers. They break through and Han ushers the freed prisoners inside an empty room. Rey’s foot is on the threshold when something screams at her to stop. The hangar they just entered is full of Walkers and it’s an image straight out of Rey’s past. The memory flings her back onto a deserted planet, in a small, rusted house full of scribbled lines on the wall, death and decay.

Han and Leia run for the Walker, but Rey stays where she is because Luke is nowhere to be seen and, with another prod into the murky Force webs, she finds him far away from their position. Rey doesn’t stop to think what she’s doing, she just runs after him, praying that she will get there in time, so he won’t get killed.

She has no clue what happened the first time around, but if her presence here altered anything, she can assume that maybe things will not go like they should anymore. She won’t risk one of them dying because of something she indirectly did, especially when the future is in danger.

The path to Luke is twisted with corners and enemies and Rey almost gets lost even though she can still feel his signature, closing in towards the floating cloud of darkness. Rey swallows back a frustrated scream and pushes on, willing her feet to run faster, to cover more ground in less time. She’s almost certain that she will get there to witness the scene of Luke’s death and her treacherous mind continuously keeps this little fear alive and sparking at the back of her mind.

Rey grits her teeth, takes an abrupt left and all but throws herself between Luke and the black clad figure. She doesn’t even pause to assess the situation – she only sees the glare of a red lightsaber and her instincts kick into action because she subconsciously knows what that colour means.

_More often than not, an enemy. Very rarely a soulmate. But that’s just once in many,_ many _generations._

Her yellow lightsaber clashes with the red one in a shower of sparks and she hears Luke inhale loudly, shock rolling off him and his turmoil is almost as distracting as the rasping breath coming from above her. Rey dares to lift her gaze from where it’s locked on the sparking blades of the ‘sabers and she feels her eyes widen the longer she watches her adversary.

No, adversary is a word too light. This scene is straight out of a wacky version of her most popular nightmares.

Darth Vader continues to breath mechanically, but Rey is quite certain that she’s stopped quite a while ago. Her mind is roiling yet she can only form one slightly coherent thought and that is around the lines of a string of curses in every language she knows.

Of all the things to encounter – Rey had to hurl herself in Vader’s way.

_In another small part of her mind, there’s a spark of amusement taking life because now that the notion has finally registered, Rey realizes that she’s all but met all of Ben’s family, past and future, barring his grandmother. Who Rey is half afraid that she will get to meet, if the Force continues trying to be funny._

Darth Vader is a stone and metal statue and he does not move a muscle as he continues to study both Rey and Luke, still standing behind her, with the most passive-aggressive glower behind his mask she’s ever felt. Rey can take a guess of his facial expression because she has experience dealing with masked men holding the Skywalker surname. But it’s also because she can feel his non-emotions roiling through the Force, which is in itself a very glaring clue.

Despite his greatest efforts, Darth Vader doesn’t quite manage to tightly lock his emotions away in a void that leaves nothing behind to fill it. The Force feels that way at first, but the longer Rey concentrates, the closer she gets to intuiting a few wisps of the _somethings_ that Vader is probably experiencing right now.

“I see that Obi-Wan has been very prolific during his cowardly period of hiding.” That scratchy voice makes her shiver, but her mind struggles to associate it with Kylo Ren’s. It’s different, strangely different yet the same. “Another failed project of a sand rat aspiring to make a name for themselves.”

In another time, on any other planet, Rey might have taken it personally and found it in herself to be offended. As it is, she currently has other things to deal with. Such as the increasingly heavier pressure applied against her lightsaber. There is also the fact that, despite trying to be sarcastic, Vader is actually very on the nose with this one.

“You are only half right.” Rey says but she doesn’t know how she manages to speak with her jaw clenched so hard.

Her answer seems to catch Vader’s attention because his efforts to cut her in half halt for a precious moment. Rey does not dare to push back though, because she knows that his mechanic limbs will overwhelm her in a second.

“I’m hardly trying to make a name for myself, but I am a sand rat.” Rey glares at the expressionless mask, willing to convey all of her conviction and bitterness into her next sentence. “A sand rat from Jakku.”

Maybe it’s the name of a place holding nothing that brings back bleak memories of Tatooine, or maybe it’s because she is not lying and this revelation makes Obi-Wan’s lack of involvement obvious, but Vader steps back all the same. Rey keeps her ‘saber lifted in front of her, not daring to believe that they are out of danger even for a minute.

“You are strong in the Force, young one.” His words strike a chord that is buried deep, deep inside of Rey and she all but physically recoils. “Where did you get that lightsaber from?” His question comes unexpectedly, and it throws Rey off track for a second.

She hears Luke shift behind her and his signature flickers with uncertainty and confusion.

Rey clears her throat. “Kef Bir.”

It’s not a common planet and neither is it strategically important to the Empire, especially in this time, when the second Death Star has yet to be destroyed. Rey is pretty sure that Vader is frowning behind his faceless mask. He must be conflicted because she is not lying, and this warrants more confusion than anything else. Maybe he will think it’s worth scouting it out, but he will find nothing – nothing but an angry ocean and a howling wind over plains of tall grasses and lifeless cliffs.

Before Vader has the chance to grill her further, the walls of the factory shake dangerously and a shower of dust falls over their heads. Luke makes to pass Rey and probably do something stupid like launch himself at Vader in the mistaken notion that he is a proton torpedo, consequently getting killed like an idiot. But Rey throws an arm out and stops him just in time. The ground beneath their feet shakes again and Rey fights to keep her equilibrium and Luke beside her while Vader looks most unimpressed by the powerful earthquake.

It’s a moment where Rey feels the Force heave and shout a warning before the ceiling splits open and she falls back along with Luke. He’s there to cushion her fall and Rey watches with mounting horror. A large foot that belongs to a Walker rapidly descends in their direction and she cringes when it almost flattens all three of them in one move.

A horde of troopers comes marching through the seeds of destruction left behind, firing incessantly on the stolen military vehicle and on the unarmed slaves, who are quick to retaliate in any form or measure. Rey takes Luke’s hand and books it out of there, praying that Vader will be too preoccupied keeping the chaos under control to follow them.

Rey carves a path through the Imperial troops, heading for the world outside. She uses the Force to fling bodies left and right, not daring to light her ‘saber again in fear that it will be much too visible and easy to spot through the smoke and dust clouds. Luke grudgingly follows her lead, even though Rey can guess that he wants to lock lightsabers with Vader again. It’s unfortunate for him that Rey will not risk having him die because he’s suicidal enough to try it.

The Walker tilts precariously and starts falling apart at the seams. Rey watches with increasing dread, knowing that Leia and Han and in there, manning it with Artoo. The huge machine falls towards the ground in pieces and through the cascading debris Rey spots a lit, red lightsaber. When she turns her head to where Luke was just a second ago, she finds only empty space. Rey curses loudly over the sound of blaster fire and groaning metal as the Walker thoroughly disintegrates under the heavy fire coming from all sides.

Rey uses the Force to shield herself from whatever stray pieces of the Walker might fall and injure her. She searches for Luke around the battlefield, but the Force tugs and her stomach drops because of course he had to go confront Vader.

She doesn’t understand what’s so interesting in fighting with the most dangerous man in the galaxy, but Luke’s behaviour strangely mirrors Ben’s – going at it no matter the odds because of some predisposed notions he had previously made for himself. That it is his duty to be the one to do it. It’s to Rey’s understanding that neither Luke nor Leia know that they are related as of yet, so he probably is unaware that Vader is his father. Still, the Force brings them together again and again, in a morbid game full of irony.

One question remains – something Rey studiously refuses pondering. Does the same apply to the Sith? She certainly hopes not. Due to past experiences, a Sith won’t stray from his plan to kill someone just because they are related to them. It would rather make them hurry to complete the deed. Yet, Vader turned to the light in the end, so whatever the revelation about his children did, it at least seemed to bring back a semblance of humanity to him. Seeing him attack so indiscriminately now seems to Rey a bit overkill, especially when he’s oozing the will to kill Luke. So, he must still be unaware of their connection.

Rey clenches her teeth as she somersaults over a particularly large boulder and lands on the other side to find Luke locked in furious combat with Vader. The dark side user does not seem to be breaking any sweat, but Luke looks on the verge of collapsing if the sweat on his face is anything to go by.

Vader suddenly raises a hand and Rey all but sees it in her mind’s eye, the way Luke will be thrown against the sharp remains of one of the Walker’s legs, how Anakin Skywalker’s lightsaber will fly into the hand of its former master and how Luke would probably be killed by his own father without either of them being aware of it until it’s too late.

Rey thumbs the switch to her lightsaber and bellows a rageful shout as she jumps towards the Sith, trying to distract Vader enough to offer Luke a moment of respite. And maybe, if he’s not a stubborn nerf herder, the chance to escape.

He raises his lightsaber in retaliation and they clash for a short moment before gravity overtakes her and she lands on the ground, one foot in front of the other to give her leverage, her ‘saber raised over her head.

All throughout Rey’s experience with dark side users, there are two fights where she thought she’d really die. One was in the distant past, when Kylo Ren tried to kill her in a snowy forest on an exploding planet. And the most recent one is when she really did die, killed by the worst evil of all and losing everything in the process.

That’s why Darth Vader, menacingly looming over her, does not affect Rey as much as it should. She only has to compare it with the overwhelming desperation she faced in the fight against the Emperor and it’s enough to instantly give her duel with Vader a lighter veneer.

Rey cannot underestimate him, but she also cannot find it in herself to spare any fear for him. That fear is only reserved for her nightmares lately.

Vader strikes again and Rey brings her arms up to block. Her muscles strain under the weight and she shifts her center of gravity, leaning on her right foot, and brings the left one in a backwards step, leaning back so far that her back is parallel with the ground. The red crackling blade passes her face by a hair’s breadth and Rey uses the Force to right herself quickly and jump back. Vader watches her, stays in his place and Rey shifts the hilt of her ‘saber to the other hand, offering a cursory twist of her wrist to fill this unexpected moment of stillness.

“You show fast reflexes in battle.” The scratchy baritone causes a shiver to go down her spine. She didn’t think that Vader would start commenting on her lightsaber skills in the middle of annihilating her. But then again, it would get monotonous otherwise for a man of his reputation. “Yet you are unexperienced and impatient.” The tip of a red ‘saber points at her chest and Rey instinctively raises her blade to meet it. “These weaknesses will be your downfall.”

There really is no getting out of here. Rey takes a short second to gauge the situation, but it looks far from balmy. Many of the slaves Luke freed are dead on the ground; Leia holds Han upright and is dragging him towards the _Falcon_ , though the man is all but conscious at this point; the surviving troopers are starting to surround them and cut off their path.

Rey dares not take her eyes off the Sith, but she needs Luke to listen to her. He’s still where Vader left him, clutching his lightsaber like a lifeline. The whites of his knuckles are a stark contrast to the dried blood on his hands and his muscles are so visibly contracted that Rey is afraid he won’t be able to move again.

“Luke!”

He snaps out of it like she went to him and slapped him over the face. Vader does not move, but his helmet shifts ever so slightly towards the other Jedi-wannabe. Rey takes half a step forward, intent on making sure that his focus remains sorely on her.

“Go help Leia and Han!”

Luke seems thorn, but something from Rey’s tense posture to the way she clenches her jaw spurns him into action and she’s glad that she didn’t need to use the Force to push him forward where she wanted him.

Luke sprints to the ongoing battle outside and Vader widens his posture, all but blocking her view of the skirmish behind them. His signature in the Force is full of thinly veiled disdain and arrogance.

“A most fruitless venture.” He intones and Rey glares at the absurd show of superiority. Too long has she been subjected to such things from this family. “You will all perish today.”

“I know who you are!” It’s a plan born out of a frenzied need to buy time, for everyone and for herself. As much as she fears that death is imminent, _Rey cannot die here._

Vader gives no outward reaction of having even heard her, so she reiterates when he takes a decisive step forward.

“Who you really are!”

This time the Sith’s shoulders tighten and she bites down a victorious smirk.

When he remains silent, she insists. “Your lost identity.”

His red ‘saber all but takes her head off her shoulders. Rey parries in a flourish of well-coordinated moves that push Vader back and let her breathe for a second.

“Do not assume that your lies hold any power over me!”

But he is starting to get angry, Rey hears it in the harsh tone of his respirator, and she feels it fully in the Force. It’s starting to get harder to breathe, too.

“I am not lying!” She defends and ducks out of range, then comes up with a vertical upwards strike that makes sparks fly. Vader’s helmet flashes eerily in the blood red light of his weapon. She checks the Force, but no stray Skywalker is here other than the most infamous of them all. “You were once Anakin Skywalker, a Jedi!”

Rey wishes that Luke would hurry up because she is pretty sure that she’s just climbed to the top of Vader’s kill list with just that one sentence alone.

“A dead man’s name that has no value anymore.” Vader says detachedly yet Rey feels his rage tightening like a noose around them and she questions the value of his words. “You come with such proclamations, yet you have no way of proving them to be true!” The helmet lifts as if something occurred to him just now. “Has Obi-Wan been spreading his misconceptions and manipulations around again?”

Rey’s brows climb on her forehead, disbelief filling her mind. At this point, Vader is more of a petulant child than someone actively raging about his former name. It seems to Rey that his former master is automatically being blamed for just about everything that goes wrong. 

“I’ve never met Obi-Wan.”

“Liar!”

Rey offers an undignified yelp as the hulking mass of a cybernetic man launches towards her, faster than she ever expected him to be. She staggers back and prepares to meet the powerful force behind Vader’s next attack. He’s so much taller than Ben. Rey feels like he could step on her any moment now and it would be the end of her.

She tries her best to deflect his heavy blows but he’s unrelenting and soon her arms are trembling with the exertion, yet Vader appears to be just done warming up. Rey bites her lip and crouches lower to the ground, trying to get better footing and a wider support.

He comes at her with a lunging strike and Rey closes her eyes against it as she raises her hands over her head, lightsaber locked in a defensive posture.

In the midst of the darkness and the frightful expectation of the incoming strike, a sliver of white light slithers through a crack at the back of her mind and screams her name in a familiar voice that makes her heart beat again.

_“REY! RUN!”_

Rey opens her eyes, petrified for other reasons than Vader’s rapidly approaching form. That was Ben’s voice, calling out to her, telling her to run. Can he see her? How did he manage to talk to her?

Maybe it is ultimately a higher survival instinct that just decided to communicate through Ben’s voice, but something in her rebels at the idea. She needs to believe that he is alive and somewhere out there. Lost just like she is, crouching on the ground and waiting to meet Darth Vader’s lightsaber with her own.

Her heart hammers inside her chest as she follows its arching movement, yet it stops just shy of touching her weapon. Rey has no time to be confused because Vader’s large, gloved hand comes to rest over her head and she feels her brain suddenly clutched in a painfully tight grip.

She screams out from the pain, feeling a pair of sharp claws dig into her mind and while a steady wave of darkness closes in from the corners of her eyes, Ben’s face is the last image she glimpses at the forefront of her mind before the pain fades away.

* * *

Most likely, Rey has screamed her throat raw because when she comes to, she’s kneeling on the ground and her throat feels sore, like she ate two buckets of sand and gravel. Her heart all but breaks out of her chest and Rey breathes rapidly, starved for air and trying not to go into one of her usual panic attacks.

Her vision is still a little blurry, but it’s clear enough to catch Vader a few paces away, kneeling on the dirty floor just like she is. His respirator doesn’t let him show any outward reaction like shock, but the Force is brimming over with his emotions. Rey’s never felt anything like it. She cannot settle on which one to examine first.

“You,” Vader lifts his head and Rey swears that he’s glaring at her, full of accusation, “who are you?”

The tall man stands up and the hilt of his lightsaber slides into his hand. His thumb is on the switch, but he does not press it. Rey watches him watch her in turn. She has no answer to give him that won’t screw up the future and she knows it.

“Who is he? Who is that _boy_?!”

And if there is a slight hitch of his voice on the last word, Rey files it as something she misheard because that respirator doesn’t allow for such responses, filled with unbridled anguish.

Rey blinks against the sudden despair radiating off the man, yet it feels oddly in tune with Vader’s usual conduct. It’s common knowledge – almost folklore by now – that Vader was hunting Luke Skywalker to the point of being obsessed about turning him to the dark side. She can see that, whatever Vader saw inside her mind when he mercilessly tore into it, shook him so much that he is beginning to show those same symptoms. And yet Rey can only think how well deserved this retribution is.

“Speak, girl! What did the Emperor do to him?!”

He saw more than nothing, Rey realizes with increasing alarm. Vader saw important, painful things, but somehow she cannot deny him the truth. Maybe because she wants him to see it and think again on his choices.

“You know who he is.” She says simply, out of breath, watching him struggle to reply. “I don’t know what you saw but from what I sense, you already know who he is.”

There is the equivalent of a ragged breath that Vader pulls off and Rey wants nothing more than the ground to swallow her up. She continues to speak anyways.

“And you know what the Emperor did to him.”

“What he did to him, he did to you.”

“I’m not important.” Rey says immediately, sharply.

Silence follows and it is surreal to find herself in this position. But she doesn’t dare let her guard down even for a tenth of a second, because Vader is two feet away from her, analyzing her memories and Rey has no energy left to be indignant. The clinical practicality he applies over a volcanic well of reactions makes her heart pound with fright inside her chest and Rey just hopes that he will not attempt to extract more information out of her.

“You seem important.” It is as much of a hum filled with ponderous snarl as it will ever be coming from a life support suit. “The Emperor deems you important enough to live and yet he decides to kill my grandson without a second thought.”

Kriff, kriff, _kriff_.

The lightsaber rises towards her head, but Rey is prepared to meet her fate if the Force has already decided it. She watches the empty hilt travel up her throat and it’s on level with her nose when the roar of an engine echoes off the crumbling building’s walls.

Vader stops in the middle of trying to skewer her and stares at the incoming speeder, quite stupidly. Or maybe he thinks that the driver is stupid instead, risking his neck to come face his wrath.

It’s Luke’s head that materializes from behind the handlebars of the vehicle and Vader startles like he’s been struck and takes an uncalculated step back that allows the young man to drift in, grab the back of Rey’s torn tunic and whisk her out of there.

Rey angles her body to the side and climbs on quickly, if a little clumsily because of the sudden jerky movement. She holds onto Luke for dear life and keeps her gaze trained on the shrinking form of Darth Vader, standing alone amidst a crumbling world on fire. A fitting image that clicks in perfectly with everything she’s ever heard about the man.

In a distant future, Luke will be the only one still vouching for his father – whether on the dark side or not. And his nephew will misguidedly march in his footsteps, fulfilling what he considers his inescapable legacy.

“Are you alright, Rey?”

Rey clenches her eyes shut against the particles of dust grating at them, trying to keep herself from spilling any unwelcome tears. She’s frustrated with herself and at her weakness and she all but prays to the mighty Forces out there that nothing is going to change the timeline. She just gave Vader a glimpse into the future, a future where the last member of his family is murdered by the Emperor and discarded like a rusted piece of machinery.

She is afraid to think of what will happen next and it’s all her _kriffing_ fault.

“Not really.” Rey finally replies because lying to Luke is obsolete. He can feel the truth in the Force anyways.

He remains silent all the way to the _Falcon_. The ground shudders violently when Luke parks the speeder. Their ship rises above the destruction and the factory blows just as Luke uses the Force to jump in after Rey.

She can’t quite believe that it is over, but the luminous faces of the survivors inform her as much. Everyone is grimy and bloody, but they are alive and relief floats through the ship in refreshing waves, like water after an especially arid day.

Rey takes one look in the cockpit and sees Han spread out on the passenger seat behind the co-pilot, sleeping soundly. Leia is at the controls, her face fixed in a grim mask as she manages to steer onto a clear path while Luke is plotting the course for the hyperspace jump now that they’re out of Cymoon’s atmo.

The sky is black and dotted with twinkling stars outside the viewport and Rey watches them spread until the canopy above their heads makes the Star Destroyers surrounding the small moon seem insignificant.

Her eyes catch the stray glint of a metallic object dangling from a broken switch. Rey watches the dice dangle above Leia and Luke’s heads and she suddenly understands. Her mind brings her back to a time two years ago, when she was still fresh faced and out of the desert for the very first time, yet already touched by this vile world of pain and grief. She was with Chewie in the Falcon, travelling a thousand parsecs and more to reach the furthest of locations in the known galaxy, struggling to find a ray of hope against the heavy darkness settling in.

Chewie told her the story then, on the night before they were due to arrive. He was on watch and Rey was far too wired to try and get some sleep. Those were Han’s dices, which he used to win the _Millenium Falcon_. The Wookie had hung them there as a joke, but Han kept them that way because he liked it.

The mention of Han must have shown a glimpse of the grief Rey was still carrying inside because Chewie had rumbled a tired sigh and slumped in his seat. His dark eyes searched the stretched lines of the hyperlane in ponderous silence and Rey left it that way because it offered her an opportunity to brood in the privacy of her own thoughts.

The moment did not last however and soon, Chewie was in the midst of reminiscing how Ben Solo would run through the ship, a shadow in his father’s footsteps and the dice dutifully clutched in his tiny hands. They’ve been a toy to Ben since the first time the toddler has set eyes on them. He barely let those golden dices leave his grabby hands, always thrusting them above his head and declaring how great of a pilot he will become.

Despite the hate Rey had still harbored for the abhorrent man who had killed his own father in cold blood, something pulled at her heartstrings and her throat closed up with a sob at the story. A tremendously sad one at that. 

That pair of dice is the one and only thing beside the ship itself that connects a future Ben Solo to the past and they are her way out of here, she is certain.

“So, you’re alive, newbie.” Han’s voice makes Rey jump.

She turns to look at him and he offers the ghost of a smirk, pained but alive.

“Stay put, Solo.” Leia warns as she pulls on the hyperspace throttle and the world lights up in a bluish tint of light. “You’re bleeding all over.”

“Heh, I’m fine!” The smuggler tries to lift himself up, but all too soon he’s flopping back down with a disgruntled expression on his face.

Luke chuckles and stands up with a grin.

“Let’s get you patched up, huh?”

Chewie’s howl is heard somewhere close by and Han grimaces because the Wookie just declared mutiny if Han won’t let himself get threated.

Rey watches them head for the medbay, and wonders if she’d ever get the chance to see them again. Probably not in this life, but maybe in the one beyond, where all beings go back to the Force. Maybe she will meet them and the other Force ghosts when the time comes.

Until then, she turns to Leia, but the woman is already standing up. She leans on the console and Rey can see the way she clutches at her side whenever she moves.

“You’re injured, too.” Her voice comes out in a whisper.

Leia smiles slightly, something small at the corner of her mouth, though her eyes are alight with a flame that still burned bright over thirty years later.

“I am going to live. But I’ll still go and get a bacta patch.”

Rey returns the smile with one of her own and follows Leia’s movements. She doubts the young woman would want her help, but she’s careful in case it’s needed.

Leia makes it as far as the door before she turns her head to look at Rey again.

“Can you watch the cockpit until someone comes back?”

Not trusting her voice to speak out, Rey nods and collapses back in the pilot’s seat when she’s finally left alone. Her eyes travel over the scratched panels of the cockpit, over the blinking dots of the numerous systems showing their current status, over the worn-out chairs and, finally, to the console, spotted and used but well loved.

The bright stars outside cast bright streaks that feel almost painful to Rey’s tired mind and she’s suddenly drowning in a yawning pit of sadness. The finality with which she understands that she will never be able to see them again is striking in its intensity, but at the same time, Rey steels her roiling emotions because she is on a mission and such sentiments have no place here.

She’s had time to properly mourn each one of them, but she never could approach mourning Ben. Something inside of her would always rebel, like a visceral reaction and now she knows that it was their bond screaming at her that it’s not over yet. There’s still a chance, but she needs to leave now, get out of here and find him.

Rey lifts her hand to the dices but hesitates when voices start to filter inside her head, whispering sweet nothings and hissing words that she cannot understand. Above them all, there is a feeling of urgency that she has to _leave_ as soon as possible.

Rey is not usually one to bat away such warnings when they come from inside her own head, yet she approaches the pair of dice carefully. She watches for any stray movement and when nothing comes forth, she reaches out with one final, jerky move and grabs the golden dice between her fingers.

The stretched projections of the stars forming the hyperlane expand until all she sees is buzzing white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Cymoon 1 ](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Cymoon_1)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late but this is how I roll these days
> 
> Many thanks to freestyle_tears!
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy!

* * *

_“Ben…”_

_Rey falls asleep with his sweet smile at the forefront of her mind_.

* * *

**TATOOINE**

A trillion miles and a few time and space vortexes away, Ben wakes up to the sound of his name and, for a second, he swears that it was Rey’s voice calling him. The whisper dissipates from his mind like smoke, before he can analyze it more closely and he shakes his head to get rid of the fuzziness.

It’s just then that sand enters his eyes and Ben howls and curses in a very good rendition of backstreet Corellian. 

The fine particles burn like hell and no matter how much he scrubs at his eyes the feeling is only getting worse. Ben resigns himself to be a blind man for the rest of his life and lifts his head up, blinking madly to try and get the sand out.

It’s a little late but smell and sound finally seem to register now that the shock of being attacked by sand has passed. He feels the touch of a hot sun beating down on him without mercy, making his desolate surroundings searing to the touch.

Ben pats himself hurriedly and sighs in relief when his hand closes around the grey shirt and military issue jacket he had on when he visited the Skygarden on Chandrila. Now that he can leave behind the possibility of being naked, Ben blinks a few times more and is pleased when his vision, despite still being blurry, starts to return.

The landscape that greets him is probably one out of his most promising nightmares – or Rey’s past, which is a nightmare in itself.

A sea of sand dunes stretches as far as he can see and nothing else can be glimpsed on the horizon, no matter how much Ben wills it to appear. There is only a desert wasteland, full of nothing and his mouth twists into a painful scowl when he realizes that he might as well die here before he even gets close to civilization.

If the nearest outpost is a day away, Ben is as good as buried in this forceforsaken place. He has no supplies and no water – a problem that his brain does not take long to remind him of by signaling through a parched throat that Ben might want to take steps in remediating this situation immediately.

The heat is physically suffocating, and Ben takes off his jacket to use as a makeshift cover for his head. The movement is encompassing enough to make him look to the side. With a tight heart, he gently picks up the lone stem of the red Nightbloomer he had gathered back in the Skygarden.

Ben is careful to put it in his jacket’s inner pocket before he places the thin material over his head and drags himself to his feet. He takes a moment to look around and closes his eyes, willing the Force to guide him in the best direction. His senses point to something a few clicks away, and he decides that checking it out is better than wasting away on top of a dune.

The trek is terrifying because the eerie silence of this burning wasteland makes his mind fuzzy and unclear with memories of a past that has no place in his thoughts anymore. The Force feels eerily subdued as well, and it’s such a change from what he’s used to, that Ben is spooked by this feeling of nothingness assaulting his senses from every possible direction.

The sand rolls under his feet and makes the walk worse, if that was even achievable. Ben scowls at the ground and wonders how effective it would be to lie down and roll down these capricious hills, but he dismisses the idea out of fear that a sand slide might swallow him whole.

Countless thoughts distract him as he trudges on and it’s a dangerous combination, to be alone and open to his uncensured thoughts. Ben has since long ago been afraid to let himself just _think_ , warry that anything he might have to say in the privacy of his own mind will still be subjected to the scrutiny and derisive judgement of the voice inside his mind. Likewise, trying to offer them out loud would only bring about the same results, but from different people.

It got annoying at some point, but after he surpassed that threshold, Ben’s mind transformed into a deserted nightmare, much like his surroundings.

Ironic.

Whatever small, fleeting impressions of a thought he ever conjured were quickly suffused and stuffed in a very remote corner of his mind. Some he took out when Snoke had finally gotten bored and retreated, to analyze them at his leisure, but most of the time Ben let his mind wander to little nothings that would only leave light traces that Snoke would discard with disinterest. It was easier on everyone and especially on young Ben, who wanted nothing more than to be able to please every adult in his life – corporeal or not.

Ben swears as he stumbles, but thankfully does not fall on his face. The engine of a spaceship roars above his head, so close that he thinks it will land on him. He looks up in time to see a Rigger-class freighter, followed by four Rogue-class starfighters.

Ben holds his breath as the Rogue-class ships successfully hit the one they are following in close pursuit. The Rigger-class loses altitude fast and he watches as it crash-lands fifteen clicks away from his position in a shower of sand.

The Rogue-class ships hone on its location but land much more smoothly. Ben resumes his walk at a hasty pace, not quite daring to run on the unpredictable terrain but overtaken by a need to see what happens.

He gets there in a record time of ten minutes, but by then there are two droids still standing and two men fighting with lightsabers next to the fallen ship. The smoke does not manage to mask the two fighters and even at this distance, Ben can distinguish more than the red and blue lightsabers they hold.

The man using the red saber is the tallest of the two, dressed in dark robes and a blood red cape. His white hair almost shines under the powerful light of the sun, but Ben can slightly conjure a fuzzy image of his face because he’s read about him in the countless hours of studies about the fall of the Old Republic. Ben was ever only interested in the military strategies of the Clone Wars, because the rest was political gibberish that was hardly entertaining to a fourteen year old boy, despite his mother’s insistence that it was a trove of lessons for future generations.

There was a man leading the Separatists, directly serving under Darth Sidious. A former Jedi, with wealth and connections who turned to the dark side because the Jedi had betrayed his faith. And if he’s right, then this man is Count Dooku, with which Ben can slightly sympathize with after all the bantha shit he’s been through himself at the hands of the Jedi and their rules. The embodiment of the New Jedi Order, his own uncle, has betrayed Ben’s faith by trying to kill him in his sleep. Ben had to turn to the only one man who offered him an escape from all the chains holding him down, yet he bound him with more leashes dressed as gifts when Ben went to him.

He narrows his eyes on the Count, currently locked in a stalemate with a younger man with blond hair and dark clothes that denote his allegiance to the Jedi.

Ben squints under the unforgiving brightness and, though his spot on the nearest dune does not afford him a good angle of the fight, he catches stray glimpses that merge into a very alarming image. He isn’t sure that it is the Force’s doing, but at this point Ben has nothing else to go on by.

The hilt of the blue lightsaber is familiar even at this distance and the man holding it in a tight grip is a figure he has presently looked up to all his life. Years upon years ago, young Ben Solo would listen attentively, with an open mouth and a mind full of wonder at his uncle Luke’s descriptions of Anakin Skywalker. 

Ben’s grandfather was tall in all those stories, with long hair the color of sand and a cybernetic hand that was not covered with synthflesh. But despite his height, his presence always felt taller than life and his charming attitude was always effective, whether used to beat an enemy or gain an ally. Anakin never had a plan, but he always managed to accomplish his mission, even by a hair’s breadth. And he always, _always_ had a grin or a smile on his face. Only when the danger was high and the people he cared for were threatened, did Ben’s grandfather hold a determined expression on his face that promised everything will be alright.

In this moment though, Anakin Skywalker is doing nothing but scowl and his eyes are narrowed on his enemy. Count Dooku is likewise completely engaged in the fight, so they don’t notice the droids break formation from where they were blocking Anakin’s possible means of escape.

Ben doesn’t notice them either, much to his embarrassment, because he is too invested into this duel to pay any attention to his surroundings, shocked and overwhelmed by the sight of his grandfather alive and not fallen yet.

The one person Ben has strived to get to know and understand since forever. Who never shied away from declaring that his grandfather was a hero. Ben and Luke Skywalker were similar in this one and only aspect – they both held an unwavering torch for Anakin Skywalker, no matter the wrongs he did or how many people he hurt.

When it turned out that Vader and Anakin Skywalker were one and the same, Ben’s perception of him did not change, though it did increase the need and the urgency to figure this elusive person out. And now that he’s standing right in front of him, Ben is completely captivated.

This proves a bad move on his part, because his mind returns to reality a little too late. The droids stop at the bottom of the dune and one of them fires in his direction. Ben throws himself away from the top of the hill and lands hard on his back, but the damage is worse than just some parched sand flying in his eyes again. The bolt strikes the sand in such way that the whole dune starts falling apart and drags Ben away with it, no matter how hard he tries to crawl out of the fallout.

This is one of his worst nightmares materialized, but he thankfully manages to keep his head above the surface and, by the time the sands stop shifting, he’s only half buried and splayed at the bottom of the small valley formed by the crash landing of the freighter.

The droids are old models, ones that Ben has seen only in historical holonet articles, yet they certainly seem animated now as they waste no time pointing their electrostaffs in Ben’s face. One of them rears back, twists the weapon over its head and then lunges with its dangerous tip pointed in Ben’s direction.

Defenseless and on his back, Ben is practically a sitting target for them to practice on. He lifts his arm, palm open and facing the incoming droid and he wills the Force to listen to him. His attacker stops abruptly, electrostaff crackling and joints audibly groaning under the pressure Ben exerts over it. He grits his teeth against the strain and uses his other hand to lift himself up from the ground. If he’s on his feet, then his chances of survival automatically increase by a good chunk.

The other droid pauses to look at his partner in confusion before its optical sensors turn to Ben with a droid-glare and starts his protocol of attack.

Caught still sitting on his butt, Ben leans to the side and rolls out of the way as the staff descends. It clashes with the sand in a shower of electricity. Ben uses the momentum to jump to his feet and takes advantage of the distance from his adversaries to sharpen his concentration into a single point.

The paralyzed droid jerks under his hold and its durasteel armor starts to bend out of shape. The limbs follow quickly, at which point the droid releases a shrill sound of alarm that Ben proceeds to ignore in his concentration and wills the Force to tighten its claws around it in a crushing final blow. The whole machine crumbles in on itself just as Ben’s hand fully tightens into a fist, but he has no time to gather his wits because its companion is running towards him and looks as angry as a droid can be.

Ben dodges swipe after swipe, ducks low when it passes too high, jumps back when the droid strikes for his feet. The machine soon becomes aggravated by Ben’s strange ability to block its refined combat style, but Ben only sees its superfluous fighting techniques as an exaggerated attempt to distract the enemy so it will be open to more mistakes for the droid to exploit.

The droid twists its body, angles its staff in a high strike, but it’s a feint and Ben has seen it coming through the Force. He has no saber, no blaster and no way to defend himself besides using the Force, so he simply raises his hand again and pushes the droid back with all his might.

It lands in a heap of sand and electrical crackles but recovers quickly. Ben uses the interlude to catch his breath and narrow his perception to that singular point, where the droid stands. He waits for it to advance and when it starts to do so, Ben sprints headfirst towards it.

Fortunately, he manages to surprise it long enough to kick the staff out of its hand. Ben slides on his knees, picks up the staff and raises it above his head just in time to catch the droid’s outreaching hand. Its long fingers tighten around the handle and Ben bares his teeth at the droid, who in turn stares at him emotionlessly, though with a certain amount of disdain.

_There are two emotions you can grasp as something close to emotion from the usual droid who is not C-3PO or R2-D2 and their sketchy programming. The first and most common is disdain, though it’s never been proved that droids even know or understand what that is. The second one is amusement, because the droid is constantly having fun watching its masters struggle with their everyday lives._

The electrical current spikes and Ben eyes it with a certain amount of wariness, but his attention is demanded by the strong droid trying to squash him on the spot. From its other arm, a compact blaster slides out of a secret compartment and Ben swears loudly in the first language that falls off his tongue.

He uses the Force to heave a mighty push back against the staff and uses the moment when the droid staggers a step back to get as far away from it as possible. The droid fires and the blood red energy beam heads straight for Ben.

His stamina is running frightfully low, but Ben soldiers on through the pain and the nausea. He focuses on the beam and stops it midair. The move does not necessitate as much Force handling as crushing the droid had but it demands more of his concentration, which is something he can hardly spare when a hulking mass of metal is trying to kill him.

Ben avoids a few other blaster bolts and freezes four others. He runs in circles around the droid, hoping to confuse it but also because there is an inkling of a plan forming inside his mind. The droid seems content to keep shooting at him and its movements have started to wane in favor of practicing shooting on a moving target.

Ben is determined to have this go for as long as possible, yet the droid is programmed to renew its volley of attacks sooner rather than later, especially when its enemy is irritating in his skittishness. It jumps high, higher than Ben thought it could, which takes him by surprise and almost manages to tackle him as a result of his distracted state. Luckily, Ben has enough combat experience against droids and enough foresight to avoid it.

He dashes to the other side of their small arena and waits for the droid to take the expected steps towards him. It follows a predictable trajectory and when he triggers his hold on all the blaster bolts he has previously frozen, Ben relishes in the feeling of relief and the weightlessness that comes along with letting them fly.

The droid is hit by almost every shot it fired, but they do nothing more than singe his armor. Disinterested with the performance, it continues in its advances and, without any other tricks, Ben backs away as his mind races to find another means of escape.

The droid’s heavy steps falter barely ten steps away from Ben – too far out of range to attack but also close enough that Ben is in a state of complete panic over the impeding machine of doom. A bright blue blade emerges from its chest and the machine short-circuits and falls to the ground in a useless heap of metal.

Ben looks at his savior and finds his grandfather watching him with a smoldering glare, his gaze full of suspicion as he studies this stranger who managed to down one droid and survive a duel with another one.

“Who are you?” Anakin Skywalker asks, almost accusingly, and lifts his lightsaber to point at him.

Ben is rooted to the spot, uncertain what he can and cannot divulge but certain of one thing – his grandfather will know if he lies. Everyone with a semblance of understanding of the Force and capabilities to use it would able to sense what the eyes are able to miss.

“Ben Solo.”

No one can associate him with Han Solo because his dad is a little kid running amok through the streets of Corellia in this timeline. Besides, they kept saying that ‘Solo’ is such a common name, no one would bat an eye at it.

Anakin hums, still studying him and says, surprisingly astute in his observations. “You are Corellian.”

Ben all but bites his tongue. _Kriff_ his stupid logic.

“Yes.” It’s half true at least.

“And you are Force sensitive.”

His grandfather is entirely too composed in the face of these short revelations. If someone would have done what he managed to do, Ben would have a few more burning questions he would urgently ask. Also, before Ben came into the picture, Anakin seemed preoccupied by other, more important things than this half-hearted attempt at interrogation. Ben wonders where that energy is now.

“Yes, I am. And you are a Jedi who was fighting a Separatist.”

Ben watches for Anakin’s reaction, but his grandfather’s face betrays nothing which is another untethering reality for him. He’d very much like to tear Luke Skywalker a new one for putting ideas about this man into his head, that right in this moment prove to be entirely fabricated. Ben should have realized sooner that Luke Skywalker never really got to know his father either. The absurdity of this situation makes him want to bury his head in the sand.

But Ben has to tread lightly because Anakin might just start considering him an enemy as well, and he’d like to avoid pulling the family card out of literally nowhere. It would certainly not help his case, if he insists on the time travel deal too.

“I mean, I recognized Count Dooku. It’s pretty hard not to.”

Anakin snorts and his saber dips slightly to the side and turns off, but it’s too soon to sigh in relief.

“What are you doing in the middle of the Dune Sea?”

Ben blinks at the name and it is the wrong move.

 _And now that he is finally aware of what planet, exactly, the Force brought him on, Ben does not know if he should be relieved that this is not Jakku or irritated at the memory lane, full-on depressive tour. At this point, Ben is aware that he should count his blessings and that he wasn’t thrown in a volcano for whatever twisted reasons, but that is a little hard to do when he is on_ kriffing Tatooine _. The number one recurring planet in his childhood stories – besides Alderaan – and the hellscape of his family’s suffering. In short, the last planet Ben would ever want to voluntarily or involuntarily visit._

Anakin’s startlingly blue eyes narrow on him and Ben swallows back whatever bullshit answer he almost spoke out loud.

The silence stretches on and on until it borders into awkward territory. Anakin seems undecided on what he should do with Ben, and Ben is unsure how to proceed without screwing up. Running away is useless, fighting is even worse and pulling the mercy card out of his ass is downright idiotic. He should bite his tongue and, maybe, Anakin will decide that he isn’t worth it, though the thought of being left alone in the middle of the _Dune Sea_ is so horrifying that it makes Ben want to try his chances with the Jedi.

The nearby passing of several ships disrupts the moment and Ben looks up, bemused that Tatooine airspace is such a busy place these days. He’s never imagined an Outer Rim planet being so popular that people would want to visit it so much.

His grandfather’s peculiar huttese curse alerts Ben that something isn’t right and when he looks to the horizon, he finds that there are two ships behind them, incoming at an alarming speed.

“There are two behind you, too.” Anakin scowls as Ben turns around to confirm the revelation for himself. “Damn Dooku.”

The spaceship bearing the mark of the Old Republic touches down just as a small transport lets out a swarm of droids armed to the teeth. Its other three companions proceed to do the same on the nearby dunes.

Ben takes a decisive step back because he might have kept his own against two droids, but a whole army of them is another matter altogether. His stamina is still running low and he will be practically useless without a weapon, which no one will give him anyways. Not that the Jedi have anything other than lightsabers, which is downright inconvenient at this point.

The droids close in on their location, their steps pounding and echoing off the large sand dunes surrounding them. The mocking march they form as their programming commands makes Ben’s skin crawl.

The buzzing of a lightsaber instinctively makes Ben’s back straighten. He dares a glance behind and sees Anakin grip the hilt of his sword with a grim line to his mouth that speaks nothing of his inner thoughts. The man looks ready to jump into the fray when he hears his name called from behind.

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin’s voice is full of disbelief as he watches his master climb down the last remaining few meters. “I thought you were dealing with Ventress.”

Ben follows Obi-Wan Kenobi with a clinical gaze and fights hard to keep his expression devoid of any telling emotion he inwardly feels. Another legend from his childhood, and the man who branded Ben with the legacy of his greatness, today Obi-Wan Kenobi seems to be an overly tired man with too much to do and too little time.

The unkept beard and the dark circles under his eyes tell Ben all he needs to know about the hardships of being on the front lines, in the largest war this galaxy has ever been through. The Jedi General takes a moment to catch his breath before he addresses them.

“I’ve taken care of that, actually. I came here to offer you a hand.” Obi-Wan’s voice is as dry as the desert and Ben notices that he is in the habit of absently dusting his clothes off the sand clinging to them.

In contrast, Anakin has completely given up and resigned himself to suffering under the awful dominion of the sand in silence. Ben doesn’t even remember how it feels not having sand everywhere.

“How nice of you!”

Obi-Wan does not dignify Anakin with an answer because he is unabashedly studying Ben now. His eyes offer nothing in terms of what the man is thinking, but Ben senses enough to try and shroud his presence in the Force, dim it a little bit because Obi-Wan didn’t just come here to help a fellow General cut down a legion of droids on an unimportant planet. The Jedi master is here because of him.

“Who is this then?”

Anakin glances at Ben, as if he had forgotten that they were in the middle of a stalemate just five minutes ago.

“This is Ben Solo, but I don’t believe that’s his real name.” The man points an accusing finger in Ben’s direction.

Ben huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “It is.”

“Sure, kid.”

“Pretty sure I’m older than you.”

“All right, then. Sure, old man!”

Obi-Wan sighs in desperation and pinches the bridge of his nose in an extensively Core World force of habit.

The droid army closes in on them. Ben eyes it uncertainly. He hopes that Obi-Wan and Anakin know what they are doing.

“Is something bothering you, Obi-Wan?” Anakin asks curiously, waving his still lit lightsaber around, dangerously close to his companions.

His master eyes him in a long-suffering manner, before seeming to come to a resolution inside his mind.

“Yes, actually.” The green blade of a lightsaber bathes one side of Obi-Wan’s face in a sickly light. His gaze slides to Ben again and Ben tries very hard to stand his ground. “The Council contacted me just before I entered Tatooine’s atmosphere.”

Ben shifts in place and wonders if he should take his chances with the droids. As it is, he would have to either way.

“There was a slarge disturbance in the Force. Have you felt it?”

Anakin’s eyes are finally focused on the incoming enemies, though he answers Obi-Wan anyways.

“No, I was too busy trying to stay alive.”

There is a short, delicate snort before the shooting starts and both men jump a considerable distance and right in the middle of the enemy ranks.

Ben watches them with no small amount of incredulity, not because at one glance they seem a little too full of themselves, but because they look like they’ve done it a thousand times before.

This – this does not align with any of the stories he’s ever heard of these two before. Obi-Wan was the brains, the pragmatist that put caution before anything else and always had a plan. Anakin was the one carelessly jumping in headfirst, but his grandfather seems anything but careless as he methodically cuts through the groups of droids swarming him.

And, as if this isn’t enough to rock Ben’s world completely, they don’t seem to care that they are thoroughly surrounded and outnumbered.

Not one to fall behind, the droids finally realize that there is another enemy to try and kill. Ben feels a tug in the Force and then he’s skipping around, trying to avoid as many blaster shots as he can. One nicks his shoulder and he clenches his teeth through the pain. It’s nothing he’s never felt before, but it still stings like hell.

Ben lifts a hand and pushes back, then stops a volley of blaster fire and redirects it back to the enemy. He keeps doing this and hopes that it will buy time for Anakin and Obi-Wan to finish with the rest and assist him.

There is a heavy cloak of tiredness starting to shroud his vision and Ben doesn’t dare estimate how long he can keep this up for. The droids don’t seem to find it at all disturbing that they are barely advancing and continue doing the same pre-programmed sketch they are supposed to, without much intervention from the imagination.

This is good, it offers Ben a sequence of moves he can use and save whatever of his energy he can scrape off. He falls to his knees at some point in the fight, too spent to keep standing and keep himself alive at the same time.

The fight ends when Obi-Wan starts cutting through the droids surrounding Ben. Their ranks closed in suddenly and Ben was already on his knees at that point, but he’s gotten off easy with just a few scrapes and the need for a long, long sleep.

“We should contact Snips.” He distantly hears his grandfather say as Obi-Wan’s face comes unnervingly close to Ben’s. “What were you saying about that disturbance?”

The man examines his sorry state and his gaze clouds with worry.

“We will take this one back to Coruscant with us.”

“What? Why?”

This is not good, Ben thinks half-heartedly, even though he has no energy left to forward a protest right now.

“Ashoka should be done with her mission by now. Let’s get her and leave quickly.” There goes Obi-Wan again, deciding things. The man stands up and leaves Ben down on the ground as he tilts to the side like a mindless plant.

“But are you sure you want to take this guy with us?” The tone of Anakin’s voice is filled with incredulity at his master’s plan.

“Yes, Anakin. _He_ is the disturbance that we felt in the Force. Or at least his presence here is.” Obi-Wan is aggravated now, trying to explain a concept too ambiguous even for him to understand. “Come now, let’s leave before they bring reinforcements.”

This is one of the last things Ben can really remember before he faints. The rest of the journey to Obi-Wan’s ship never registers and the hyperspace travel is a series of flashes and fleeting impressions that make no sense to him. Ben is only aware of the fact that he sleeps for a long, long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rogue Class Starfighter](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Rogue-class_starfighter)   
>  [Rigger Class Lightfreighter](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/G9_Rigger-class_light_freighter)   
>  [MagnaGuard](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/IG-100_MagnaGuard/Legends)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! Final exams were a real bitch but miraculously they are over and I can bring to you the next chapter
> 
> I am planning to update more often from now on, but we shall see ;-;
> 
> Now that my round of excuses is over, please enjoy!

* * *

**OLD REPUBLIC SPACESHIP**

He wakes up still feeling groggy, but infinitely more rested. His back hurts and there’s a dull ache somewhere down his arm, but Ben takes these small inconveniences in stride as he climbs out of a narrow bunk he doesn’t remember lying on.

There is the steady hum of a ship’s engines that gives him an idea that they are airborne and most probably in hyperspace. The cabin he woke up in has one other bunk, but it’s unoccupied. The rest of the space is taken by an accessory of crates filled with blasters and trooper armor that probably belongs to the clones under Obi-Wan or Anakin’s command.

He glances down at himself and finds that his jacket was taken off, though he isn’t as cold as he should be. Back on the familiar Star Destroyers belonging to the First Order, the atmosphere was always cold and dry, like a great cooling chamber. It served well on both a logistic approach and a psychological one. It won’t do for the stuffy armored soldiers to die of heatstroke and the high-ranking officers to sweat inside their freshly pressed uniforms, but it also subdued any outburst caused by any wayward temper tantrum.

On this ship though, the room is uncharacteristically warm compared to the usual chill of recycled air. Ben still has his shirt on, but it was obviously removed while he was unconscious because when he lifts the short sleeve, he finds the scratches and blaster wounds covered with bacta patches. He pokes the one over the wound on his arm experimentally, but it has the same jelly-like quality he is used to seeing.

Satisfied with his primary inspection, Ben takes a moment to collect his thoughts, trying to pit the names and faces together in a semblance of order. The previous sequence of events is tumultuous enough to give him a headache, but he manages to extract the most important things he needs – he has met his grandfather, met Obi-Wan, tackled more droids than he ever had in his life and lived through it. And most importantly, he got off Tatooine. Obi-Wan said that they were heading to Coruscant and, knowing the Jedi, they will stick by the rules and present him to the Council first and foremost.

Ben grips the edge of the bunk as his mind reels with the implications. He will have to talk, that’s for sure. No Jedi master will resist sticking their nose where it’s not their business. It’s already a general trait of character by the time Luke Skywalker rolls around. Though despite the gravity of it, Ben cannot find it in himself to be worried.

What he’s more worried about is the time he wastes on this ship, as he endures their attempts at figuring him out. He has to find a way out of this point in time, and if his previous experience can be counted on, he will have to let their bond guide him to whatever place or object he needs to touch to get out. Transporting himself out of this timeline wouldn’t be such a bother if they would just leave him to his devices, but Ben surely doubts that they have the nerve to do it. Especially when they are all over the place, shouting about a ‘disturbance in the Force’ as if such disturbances don’t happen literally every day in this galaxy.

Ben can count on his fingers and then continue on forever, about the number of times he was present to witness these so-called disturbances, in his thirty years of life. The Force is full of them, yet the old Jedi (and the new ones, too) treated them as if they are singularities that foreshadow awful things – bad omens that must be studied, isolated and then completely squashed down before they can do any damage to their precious Orders. This rigid way of looking at life is why the Jedi fell – not once, but twice, and will continue to do so forever until they learn their lessons.

Their ideologies are so far off removed, in a galaxy where change is a constant, that they simply cannot keep up. Skywalker was the same – he clamped his teeth around these ancient ideologies and refused to budge on even the slightest hitch in the matrix. It’s not even funny how many times Ben tried to argue with his uncle, get him to see that maybe this isn’t all so black and white, only to ultimately get the same treatment.

_Do not let the dark side influence your thoughts, Ben_.

How can it influence anything when it’s simply a darker shade of the neutral energy floating around the galaxy? It had maybe influenced what he felt, but the one speaking in Ben’s head for all of his life wasn’t the dark side – it was Snoke, with an agenda and bull-headed determination to see it through. Under orders from the Emperor himself.

However, his experience with the dark side allowed Ben to see that he was right. The world is not so black and white – it shivers and gleams in shades of grey that sometimes tilt too far to one side and the other without a certain rhythm or rhyme. The Jedi and the Sith were too presumptuous to think that they could control and influence these pendulations. They were ultimately fighting something unbeatable. But it offered Ben the opportunity to understand a little better what everyone was so afraid of, and what they were struggling to contain.

Disturbances in the Force are a mark of change, a spurn forward from the Force itself and a signal that things will start to change, whether the Jedi, the Sith or the common citizen wanted them to or not. Some are so insignificant that even the most attuned Force sensitives are unable to properly catch them, while some are so large that even normal people, untouched by the Force, will inadvertently feel them. They are a good hint to questions such as _when_ and _where_ and Ben is determined to continue trying to decipher their meanings so that maybe someday, sometime down the line, he will be able to figure it out.

Maybe then, the galaxy will finally have stopped trying to rip itself apart out of spite. And maybe, the war machine will have finally stopped turning.

A soft knock startles him out of his dark musings and Ben looks up in time to see the pneumatic door open and reveal a young Togruta girl. There is a lightsaber clipped to her utility belt, but what gets Ben’s attention are the markings on her face and the self-assured expression she holds.

Ben feels like he knows her. Something at the back of his mind keeps poking, making no sense and being irritating because of that.

Ben struggles, he really does, but the information simply refuses to come forward.

“You’re awake! Great!” The Togruta girl strides into the cabin and plops on the free bunk.

She watches him with an inscrutable look in her wide eyes and Ben feels uncomfortable under her silent scrutiny. The expression on her face does not waver from slightly petulant, though polite and amiable. She must really be bored to come just to watch him watch her.

Ben clears his throat and hopes that she will at least answer some of his questions, if she is so determined to study him in such an unabashed manner.

“What’s your name?”

The girl’s head perks up, like she didn’t think that Ben would voluntarily start any conversation. Her hands rest in her lap and she’s relaxed to the point of swaying her feet where they don’t touch the floor.

“Ashoka Tano.” The name reverberates through the room and in Ben’s soul, because now everything makes sense.

A distant, faded memory, that is smudged at the edges by time and his own stubbornness, rises to the forefront of his mind. He can picture his mother’s face clearly in his mind’s eye, tired as she always looked after a week of Senate meetings and bureaucratic events, but still full of disarming composure. She sat in front of him, on the other side of the kitchen table and it was one of the rare days when she was finally home and able to spend what little time she could with her son. And young Ben, in all of his wide-eyed ignorance, took every scrap of her presence and held it to his heart with unbridled care.

That day though, he was bored and frustrated, because the voices kept pulling at his fraying patience and he wasn’t in the mood to accommodate them. He can taste even now the sweet taste of the Goldfruit juice, that did nothing to alleviate the pout on his face.

His mother was gracious enough not to push him back then, and instead started relaying to Ben a story she deemed unimportant anymore, beside for its value of entertainment. But young Ben was still awestruck, proud that his mother would impart such an important secret to him; a story about the agent who helped the Rebellion; of a former Jedi who chose to leave the Order because she saw something wrong and festering in there; of a fearless woman who had fought all of her life; of Fulcrum, the Togruta woman who fought alongside heroes like Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker and so many more lost Jedi masters.

And she’s sitting right in front of him, without any knowledge of what the future holds and careless to whatever it might.

“They told me that your name is Ben Solo.” Ashoka’s words are slow, careful as if she’s measuring the truth by pushing for any hint of dishonesty.

A scowl threatens at the edges of Ben’s lips, but he bites it down, knowing that he would get on her bad side if he offers any sort of antagonistic answer to what is simply an observation on her part. He is just so tired of being accused of lying the one time he actually uses his real name.

“It is.” It’s the only calm version of an answer that he can give.

Ashoka hums, unconcerned and lets the subject go.

“What were you doing on Tatooine?”

“Got lost.”

And it is the truth. Ben is getting pretty good at this, he thinks, as Ashoka raises a painted eyebrow but requests nothing more out of him.

“What were _you_ doing on Tatooine?”

The Padawan offers a breathless laugh, as if startled by his bold question.

“I was on a mission.” She makes a face at this, as if whatever she had to do disgusted her to the core. “To bring back a slimy kid to his slimy, gangster parent.”

“Oh.” In reality, Ben has no clue what allusions she keeps pointing at and he’s not interested enough to care. There are other things occupying his mind right now. “How long was I asleep?”

Ashoka clamps her hands together in thought. Her mouth twists and turns as she seemingly calculates and, with every second when she doesn’t speak, Ben’s stomach drops one more inch.

“About eighteen hours.”

The answer is nothing like he had expected. Granted, it could be worse, but Ben is still sputtering when Anakin enters the cabin with a flourish of Jedi robes and a cloak colored in earthly tones.

He takes one look at his student and then contemplates what crazy thing Ben is trying to pull now.

“You guys having fun?”

Ashoka grins as she slides off the bed and struts to the entrance.

“We were having a great discussion until you interrupted us, Master.”

Anakin rolls his eyes for show, though his gaze remains fixed on Ben.

There is something unsettling behind his hooded eyes, but Ben has no time to analyze it. His grandfather juts his head silently, indicating that Ben should follow him. Ashoka steps aside as he exits the cabin and she’s promptly on his heels as they stride through the main hallway of the ship.

They come out on the other side, in the main hold that directly leads to the open cockpit. The room is spartan, only with a holoprojector in the middle and nothing else. Blinking lights flash at the corner of Ben’s vision and there are countless of them, filling consoles with statuses and messages.

Obi-Wan stands in front of the closed projector, threading fingers through his dense beard. His broad form blocks the view to the cockpit in such a way that Ben cannot see who currently pilots the ship, but he can easily guess that it’s a Clone trooper or two. The hyperspace tunnel is a backdrop of light against the dim brightness of the space inside the cabin and it grates at his eyes more than usual.

The three Jedi move into a half circle and study Ben in silence. All the while, Ben is quite content to do the same, though he cannot help but wonder what they want from him now.

Surely, more information. It’s their right to ask and Ben inwardly deliberates how much he can offer before he has to clamp his mouth shut and become an uncooperative prisoner.

“We are almost back on Coruscant.” Obi-Wan breaks the silence and his smooth voice is a hammer in the stillness penetrating the room. “You will be directly brought to the Temple, before the Jedi Council.”

Ben understands the necessity of it, but he can’t quite wrap his head around the fact that the mighty Jedi have time to sit around and debate him and his situation. _If_ he will talk about it, which Ben is inclined not to. They might be able to help, but then again, when have the Jedi, as a unit, ever helped Ben with anything?

He might be projecting, but he still harbors quite an unhealthy amount of resentment towards the very name. Ben won’t be pushed into doing anything by anyone, especially _them_. Being helpful and playing nice are two things that he will try to approach as a way of saving time, but it doesn’t mean it will reach a personal level.

They keep staring at him, waiting and ruminating.

“Alright.” Ben nods, unsure if they are looking for his agreement. To what end, he is unable to contemplate.

“For everyone’s sake,” Anakin begins, eyeing his master first before looking at Ben, “I suggest you answer our questions truthfully.”

This sounds like a threat and maybe it is one. One told in the Jedi’s evasive style. Still, this isn’t the first time Ben’s been on the other end of a warning. And as per usual, he cannot resist to jeer.

“I didn’t think the Jedi are condoning such threatening ways of interrogation. It almost sounds like torture is ahead.”

Ashoka blinks, startled. Obi-Wan clears his throat.

“There will be no torture involved, that is not the Jedi way. But it will definitely improve your situation if you will cooperate.” The Jedi master shoots his former padawan a signature look, inscrutable to Ben, but definitely achieving some kind of effect over Anakin. Ben’s grandfather is suddenly sheepish. “That is what my friend here was trying to convey.”

Ben gives them a second more to feel bad before he grunts and crosses his arms. He sees Anakin open his mouth, but one of the pilots speaks at that moment.

“Sir, we are exiting hyperspace.”

Obi-Wan sighs, a deep-bone weary thing that seems to go on forever. It leaves behind the husk of an optimist, a victim of things beyond his powers. “Good.”

The blue void of hyperspace is swiftly replaced by real space, charcoal black and filled with stars. Ben cranes his neck and sees the outline of Coruscant – a million yellow lights distinguishing themselves from the stars of other far off planets, stuck in a backdrop of the same darkness. They got out on the wrong end of the planet, it seems, and the pilots gently guide the ship in a tight curve over the nighttime hemisphere.

Ben looks out of the viewport critically, waiting for the first ray of sun to hit his face and convince him that this is real, and he really is here. It’s feels even more unreal than when he met his parents. At least then, the moment was bittersweet and like a second coming, finding a lost home. But now, surrounded by strangers in everything but name, Ben doesn’t know how to feel. He should take the opportunity, make the most out of it and finally get to know the one, most elusive character of his childhood he’d never thought he’d get to meet in person.

There is something to be said about second and third chances, though Ben feels like this is his hundredth one. Sadly, he’d need a hundred more to make amends to Rey about everything he did to make her suffer. He can say the same thing about his uncles.

The ship lurches forward as it descends, and the sun is brighter than Ben imagined. The transition from light to dark is abrupt and nothing grand. Sharp peaks protrude through the high atmosphere, tens of kilometers from the real surface, where the majority of the population lives.

These over glorified towers of riches are only the bow on the garbage chute that is Coruscant proper. Ben is one of the lucky ones, who had the chance to never need to head down there. He was way too young to join his father in his many escapades on the lower levels and, by the time he was old enough, they already sent him to Luke’s temple.

His childhood is peppered with frequent visits to the city-planet, most of them because one awards presentation or government function requested his parents’ presence. Or, in the worst scenarios, a diplomatic gala that demanded all three of their individual appearance.

Ben’s hate for Coruscant is a fluctuating thing. He had lots of fun on many occasions – _dinner with his parents to one of those posh restaurants his father used to scrunch up his nose at before they even stepped inside, visiting the biggest amusement park in the Core Worlds, watching the Five Sabers live_ – but there was always the undercurrent of an overwhelming feeling of hopelessness that twisted Ben’s perception and added misery even to his brightest days.

He realized why later, much, much later, when he had enough knowledge about how the Force theoretically works. In reality, what he always feels from the moment his perception is on Coruscant’s outer limits, is the echo of a billion voices crying out loud from the lower levels of the planet.

Poverty, squalor and a daily game of survival, that is decidedly overshadowed and masked by the luxury of the higher levels. Ben was too sensitive for his own good – a child with a rare, raw aptitude to use the Force. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t always put that awful sentiment to the back of his mind and forget about. It was like an acrid aftertaste inside his mouth that wouldn’t wash down with anything.

Ben wonders how the Jedi can live on this planet, how they can stand feeling everyday what made Ben sick after only a few days of constantly being exposed to it. It’s unimaginable to him.

Their shuttle touches down right in front of the Jedi Temple. Ben only catches a glimpse of its towering spires before Anakin is advancing towards him, obviously intent on getting Ben to disembark.

Obi-Wan takes the lead and guides them down the gangplank. There are only Clone troopers in the greeting party and they all stand straight and salute when they spot Anakin, Obi-Wan and Ashoka.

Ben takes a moment to breath the deeply polluted Coruscant air and survey the large building looming like a monolith against the backdrop of the sun. There are no windows on this side, just the large, open entrance with statues aligning the path. Ben takes one look at the smooth walls, the golden statues, the pillars aligned along the whole length of it and sees nothing but a fortress. Cold, accessible to no one but the ones chosen and trained from infancy. Practical, pragmatic people, too rooted in the Force and always looking for answers anywhere but around themselves.

And in the middle of it all, stands his grandfather, a blemish to the perfect Jedi system. As Ben watches him greet the clones back, he wonders how it wasn’t obvious to the Jedi that by marginalizing and lifting this man on a pedestal to fester there all alone, he would ultimately rise to destroy them all. He can’t find it in himself to blame either party really.

The Jedi feared what Anakin Skywalker would become, whatever they thought that was, though that fear was swiftly overshadowed by ego and pride. They made their decision when they allowed their delusions about the prophecy of the Chosen One to blind any foresight they might have possessed.

_Anakin_ feared what they wanted him to become too. But they still tried to mold him into that, against all clues that proved otherwise, and most possibly against his will. Ben knows all about the pressure of rising to other people’s expectations.

“This is the prisoner, General Skywalker?”

Ben’s gaze finds purchase on the nearest clone at the same time Anakin answers.

“Yeah, Rex.” This Rex is different than the others – he has blonde hair. Ben always knew that there must have been differences between them, but he never expected to see it in person.

Rex holds a grave expression on his face as he nods to his superior.

Ben feels a light push on his back, spurning him to move. He glances down at Ashoka as their group walks towards the Temple, trying to gauge her puzzling character and the off-handedness she seems to emanate. She isn’t the least tense around Ben, nor concerned over whatever is going on.

Finding a mysterious man in the middle of Tatooine proper, who is Force sensitive to boot, begs a bigger reaction to his presence than what she currently displays. Ben wonders if she’s had her moment of shock back when he was still asleep.

The grand halls of the Jedi Temple splay in front of them, wide and illuminated. Encapsulated by pillars as they are, Ben feels awe as he walks under countless arches spanning from one side to the other, through this monument of ancient origins that holds such a staggering amount of history. Their footsteps barely echo on the polished floor as they steadily advance through the long building.

Ben sees many beings on his way to the turbolifts. He can barely believe that there are so many, of all ages, stopping to stare as they pass. They are dressed in the same drab robes that Obi-Wan wears and that Ben had to wear at Luke’s insistence. Yet another chain that grounded the new Order to a past filled with failure.

Young children cluster in groups along the pillars, watching the procession of masters and padawans parade along the main hall, herding a guest of unknown importance through their home. There must be little contact with visitors from the outside world because they are incessantly whispering, their signatures tremulous in the Force with excitement and curiosity.

In contrast, some of the padawans send glares in Ben’s direction and he distractedly wonders if they’ve felt this ‘disturbance’ as well and have been told to be afraid of him. Unconcerned, Ben only tries to keep a straight face at the horrid one braid and ponytail hairstyle because it is worse than whatever descriptions he has ever heard. For all his faults, at least Skywalker never forced him to fashion something like that.

They take long, their pace temperate, as if transporting the mysterious guest is a matter of little urgency, unlike what Obi-Wan first described the situation with. Finally, after what seems like eons, they reach the turbolift. Ben’s grandfather steps inside first, followed by Ben, Ashoka and lastly Obi-Wan.

The ride is filled with a strained kind of silence that does not help to settle Ben’s nerves. Ashoka is a steady presence at his side that he’s now thankful for, but Anakin’s signature burns like fire and Ben all but takes the brunt of it, given their proximity. He wonders how no one has noticed this until it was too late.

He closes his eyes and tries to pretend that he isn’t there. Maybe if he projects himself in another place entirely, another time, the Force will have mercy and transport him there. But it doesn’t happen, and instead Ben is left to contemplate how the Temple teems with unrestrained life. Serenity, tranquility, understanding, they all float like mist through this sacred space. He cannot possibly imagine the wisdom that passes inside these walls. Such a place full of insight into a higher power and they keep it hidden, secreted away with shameless obstinacy. It’s amazing what people would let slide about things they do not understand.

Nor did the Jedi ever try to make them understand. It is better to protect their illustrious status than to spill everything out to the galaxy. They would have lost all their cards to play then.

The lift comes to a stop and Ben opens his eyes to catch the sight of Obi-Wan’s retreating back. The Jedi master enters first, and the two sentinels on both sides of the double door promptly close it behind him.

Ashoka and Anakin steer him to one side of the round reception hall and stay silent. Ben is almost tempted to ask how long they will have to wait because he understands the need for introductions, but so far, he barely told them anything. He certainly hopes they will not make him wait for half a day under the guise of a Jedi trial because even if Ben has freed himself from the hold of the dark side, he is barely attuned to the light and he is afraid of what he can do if his patience is so sorely tested. Most of the time, he feels like he’s dangling above a chasm, held in place only by the strenuous hold of his fingertips. Any second now Ben can fall. Rey’s absence is certainly not helping matters any.

So, being tested for his patience will only end up in tears on both sides. Ben prays that they at least have _this_ _little_ foresight.

Anakin shifts impatiently beside him and Ashoka shoots him a thinly veiled warning look, which is rewarded with a deadpan glare. Ben glances from one to the other and bites back a smirk. Patience has never been abundant in his family to begin with.

The door to the Council chamber opens and Obi-Wan waves a hand to signal Anakin that he can bring the prisoner inside. More than anything, Ben feels like a prisoner in this moment.

The Council room is large, but not as large as he had imagined. The floor is open to admit him and, after Anakin deposits him there, he retreats near the doors with Ashoka while Obi-Wan takes a seat in one of the chairs distributed around the room.

There are five holograms instead of actual Jedi, but otherwise the rest of the masters are present, and they examine Ben with unrestrained interest as he shifts uncomfortably under their obvious scrutiny.

Despite the heavy atmosphere, Ben studies the room with interest. It is the first time he’s ever had the opportunity to approach the Temple, and for better or for worse, this experience is precious exactly because it is so unexpected.

Tall tales of master Yoda floated around his childhood unbidden and now Ben stands in front of the being in question and he is left unimpressed with the image. The Grandmaster is a small, frail thing, even though Ben is sure of the fact that Yoda is anything but those things in reality.

_Never meet your heroes_ , his dad used to say with a good dose of sarcasm and Ben took his words to heart. Out of all the other comments his dad ever had about something, this was the thing that had resonated with young Ben the most.

Next to Yoda, master Mace Windu’s eyes are narrowed on Ben, as if he alone is responsible for whatever shit is going on around here.

Ben has his fair share of thoughts on the Clone Wars, but he bites his tongue because the past is not his concern and things like these cannot be changed – do not deserve to be changed – just because he has an opinion on how to change them.

Besides Obi-Wan Kenobi and these two, Ben doesn’t know any of the other masters. There were scarce readings on the Jedi as a whole and their most popular faces, but not much else.

Someone clears his throat but Ben’s not about to crack first. He is too good at the silence game.

At last, it is Windu who speaks out.

“Ben Solo, yes?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [GoldFruit](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/GoldFruit)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you guys are doing well! had this sitting on my desktop because nowadays i'm procrastinating posting my story too it seems
> 
> coming up - ben's space adventures in the past and lowkey dissing some jedi masters
> 
> brought to you by stress and final project procrastination
> 
> please enjoy!

* * *

_“Ben Solo, yes?”_

* * *

**CORUSCANT**

Ben thinks his tone would be disdainful, if it wasn’t so very dry.

“Yes.”

It is a testament to his nerves when Ben’s voice cracks on the last sound of the simple word.

“Master Kenobi informed us that Knight Skywalker met you on Tatooine. You incapacitated a MagnaGuard barehanded.”

It is a nice way of saying that Ben exceeded their expectations when he completely destroyed that droid. They are also surprised at the level of control he has over the Force when he is obviously not part of the Jedi Order.

“And held his own against another. Truly impressive.” Another of the masters says from behind.

Ben cannot see him. His field of vision extends until the person after Obi-Wan. Yet he hears the implications of their words.

“Thank you.”

“How did you arrive on Tatooine, Ben?” Another foreign voice, asking the entirely wrong questions.

“On a ship.” The first lie and they sense it.

“Which ship?” Another voice pipes up and Ben is starting to get frustrated. He has not prepared for this contingency.

“A public transport.” Another lie.

In front of him, Yoda is completely unruffled by what is going on. He stares at Ben as he flounders to dodge the other masters’ questions and fails spectacularly.

The Grandmaster taps his cane on the floor and all talking stops. Ben watches as Yoda hums to himself then chuckles shortly.

“Strong in the Force you are, young Ben.”

Ben doesn’t understand what is so funny, but he’s instantly put on guard by his words. There is something there, a double meaning hidden in that peculiar tone of voice and the way the old master watches Ben with limitless patience.

Ben remains silent, squares his shoulders and schools his face, not wanting to seem as if he’s making faces at the Grandmaster.

Yoda glances to Windu, then to another few people behind Ben’s back. His throat tightens when the Jedi’s gaze finally shifts back to him.

“Just like she was. Wondering we were, when you will appear.”

Despite the cryptic sentences, Ben feels like he’s been doused in cold water. His mind is a hurricane of denials and broken hope, and it struggles to understand who Yoda is referring to, but there’s only really one answer to that. It comes surprisingly easy. His fists tighten at his sides out of desperation because he doesn’t enjoy being toyed with. If Yoda is making fun of him, Ben is unsure how he will react, but it will not be pretty. He could care less that he’s outnumbered and outpowered beyond measure.

His thoughts skid to a halt with a new realization. Yoda wouldn’t have any reason to know about him if Rey didn’t come here before. The Grandmaster certainly isn’t able to see so far into the future and, even if he does, he wouldn’t speak as if he personally knows her. Something else is going on here.

Ben’s voice is a tiny thing, the voice of a boy who can almost grasp his dream, so close he feels it is.

“What?”

There are a couple of masters present that shoot the Grandmaster questioning looks from under their furrowed brows. Obi-Wan is one of them. His face betrays nothing, but his eyes are slightly wider than normal. Ben all but feels the currents of the Force tremble with anxiety. He pinpoints a vortex of confusion right where Anakin and Ashoka stand, isolated from the rest of the room.

Yoda’s gaze never wavers under his colleagues’ doubts and he offers Ben a twitchy version of a kind smile.

“The girl – Rey. Visited us many years ago, she did.”

“Your dyad counterpart, as it were.” Windu crosses his arms, though it’s a self-satisfied expression that settles over his face in the face of Ben’s slack jawed staring.

There is a whispered exclamation full of cursive swear words that erupts in the vicinity of the doors and floats through the room pointedly.

“My apologies, masters,” Obi-Wan takes the plunge because he’s about the only one qualified to be polite about this whole thing, “but some of us seem to be missing some crucial information.”

Yoda chuckles in that strange way of his and some of the older masters who are in the know smile with amusement. It’s an older Togruta woman who clarifies the situation for the new masters.

“You were only a padawan when it happened, Obi-Wan.” Her voice reverberates about the room loudly, though she doesn’t seem to notice. “A young woman arrived at the Temple, flashing a yellow lightsaber and demanding that she speaks with us immediately.” Her dark eyes find Ben’s and his heart soars and threatens to fly out of his chest. “She told us about how she was brought here while she was searching for a way to bring her soulmate back.”

A Cerean man huffs out a laugh. He rests his chin against his fist and says. “Which is the broad definition of a dyad in the Force. We’ve since brushed up on our knowledge.”

There is unrest through the ranks of the young masters. Ben spies Anakin’s shocked face above Ashoka’s wide, excited grin.

Ben doesn’t know what to say. No, that is incorrect. He has no clue how to begin approaching these revelations. He is over the moon yes, but he is also restless because now there are more questions and less answers.

Is Rey alright? How long was she here for? Where did she go? _Why_ was she searching for him? And maybe the most pressing of all – _how_ did she do it?

Is all that happened to Ben ultimately Rey’s doing?

“How did she get here? In this time?” The questions tumble out of Ben’s mouth without much decorum. “Did she say anything about-“

“We shall inform you of everything, but I suggest you pull yourself together first.” Windu shoots him a slight glare and Ben is sorely tempted to reciprocate. The man cannot expect him to remain indifferent to such world-shattering news.

Fueled by his angry thoughts, Ben bites back. “Barely four days ago, I died.”

His declaration brings forth a tense silence. One that Yoda does not register or cares about.

“Wish to hear about that too, I do.” The Grandmaster’s words would have been crass in any other situation. But since Ben is alive, there is only professional interest at this unexplainable event.

“I suggest you start, Ben Solo.” The Togruta woman says gently. “Your part of the story comes first.”

Refusal is on the tip of his tongue, but Ben clamps his mouth shut and for once thinks about it. They are his only chance to find out what is going on, why the bond is acting this way and how it’s possible that a simple plant could transport him back in time. The old Jedi are proving to be a treasure trove of information, especially now that they hold Rey’s knowledge as well. Ben needs to find out everything he can and, if that means that he has to cooperate with them to accomplish that, then so be it.

“Alright.” Ben clears his throat under the sharp gazes digging into his back. “My side of the story is pretty simple. Rey was killed. I brought her back and died in her stead.”

There’s a sudden yelp and Ben turns to see Anakin in the midst of advancing towards him. The man’s face is set into stone, but his eyes are burning with the same fire Ben felt earlier in the turbolift. Ashoka clings to him, barely able to hold her master back from doing something stupid.

Windu raises his hand, a glare already outlining Anakin’s struggling form. Ben cannot help but observe, intrigued, as the master’s lone look can make his grandfather retreat.

“Questions after, Skywalker.” Then the master’s eyes are back on Ben, urging him to continue.

Ben licks his lips, still unsettled by the ferocity of his grandfather’s gaze.

The next part of his story is a patchy mess of memories that feel like they belong to another person. Ben doubts that no interference from an outside force was involved. The Force doesn’t just take action, all by itself and without discreet steering in a direction or another.

“My mother died not long before I did. I felt it in the Force, but I don’t think she was entirely gone. After I died, I heard her voice in that void of endless space, just for a moment. And then I woke up somewhere else, alive and whole.”

“Was your mother a Jedi, Ben?” The Cerean asks cautiously and Ben is irritated that this is the first thing they always ask.

“No.” Ben pauses, because that is not quite true. One fleeting, passing remark from Luke Skywalker pops at the forefront of his mind. “She never completed her training. She had a vision that doing so will bring about my death.” A soft snort, ironic. “It seems that her efforts were in vain.”

“But dead, you are not.” Yoda annoyingly points out the truth. “Your mother, powerful she was as well. Very strong in your family, the Force is.”

Ben grimaces at the unintended bit of truth. Even unaware, Yoda speaks only in truths.

“Your mother must have used the last of her strength to push you through one of the portals in the world between worlds.” The Togruta woman comments, careful with her words but still full of wonder.

Ben jerks back, as if physically struck. He ignores the pointed looks thrown his way because his mind is whirling. In all his lectures, back when he was a training to be a Jedi and later under Snoke, he read a number of salvaged datapads about this phenomenon. Young Ben was so passionate in his research of the elusive Vergence Scatter to the point of being obsessed about it. To find out that it really does exist, somewhere out there, and that he had passed through it is a double-edged revelation.

“Most probably. If she was as powerful as you say, it is possible that she forcefully brought you back to life.” Windu rubs his chin as Ben’s stomach roils at their comments.

“My, this is quite interesting.” The human woman next to Obi-Wan whispers.

Obi-Wan himself seems a little green in the cheeks, but otherwise his entire attention is directed to the ongoing conversation.

“Felt something through your Force bond, young Rey did.” Yoda takes the lead and finally, _finally_ Ben gets to hear what he needs to hear most. “Investigated, she did and to the ancient temple on Lothal it brought her.”

Lothal is on the Outer Rim and mostly forgotten. Ben didn’t even know that there was a temple there anymore. He clearly remembers reading that it collapsed during the Empire.

“In our time, the temple on Lothal has long since collapsed.” This information is received with incredulous faces and sharp glares.

“How can that be?!” One of the masters, who have been silent until, now speaks up as if personally offended that an ancient building collapsed.

Granted, it was a conflict between the Empire and probably some gang affiliated with the Rebellion that did the job. Ben doubts that Palpatine would simply throw away such a great opportunity for galaxy domination. And it is characteristic of the rampant rebel cells to screw with important things in the galaxy, whether in the past or in the future.

Ben shrugs because he has no answer. The holopads at Skywalker’s temple did not offer any information about this and he doubts that his mother could have known.

Windu clears his throat, demanding focus, though even he looks a little shaken by the revelation.

“Whatever the case, the temple on Lothal still stands today.”

Spurned by this information, Ben inhales deeply and slightly relaxes for the first time since being invited into the room.

“Perfect.” He mutters and means it. “This is my way out.”

Ben pauses and waits for a reply, a confirmation, _anything_ , but none comes. He frowns and tries again.

“I have to go to Lothal.”

Yoda, Windu and the rest of the Jedi masters stare at him in damning silence. After a whole minute of incessant stillness, during which Ben thinks that he will go properly crazy, Yoda taps his cane on the floor twice.

The sound is secular after such an intense stare down.

“That, I think not.”

The Grandmaster’s answer feels like whiplash. A wave of anger washes over him, an unrestrained, complete fury that burns in his chest. They just dangled the sweetest of possibilities in front of Ben and now they refuse to assume it.

“Why not?” Ben grounds out through a clenched jaw with the honest fear that he will start mouthing off to them in filthy Corellian.

Yoda’s gaze bores into his but Ben stands his ground, clenching his teeth and hoping for a somewhat satisfying answer because otherwise – he does not want to think of an otherwise.

“Much darkness in you, I sense young Ben.”

“You are shrouded in it, child.” The Cerean adds on, fingers steepled in front of his face.

Ben snorts with all the contempt he can muster. The haze of anger slowly recedes yet a good amount is still there, simmering and awaiting for its chance to truly erupt.

“I’ve been shrouded in this darkness all my life.”

The Jedi sitting next to Obi-Wan gasps.

“You are wasting my damn time.”

“The temple on Lothal, entrance will not grant you.”

Ben takes half a step back and exhales slowly, trying to dispel every incongruous thought from his mind. He thinks on what Yoda said and tries to understand why.

He cannot.

“I am not under the dark side’s influence anymore. I draw no power from it.” If that is to be the biggest problem, it is already solved. Now the only thing he needs is to highjack a spaceship and get the hell off this sordid planet.

“Yet still unconceivably troubled, you are. Only look at you once I need, to see it.”

Ben purses his lips and wrings his hands while he tries to come up with something to say to that declaration. In the spur of the moment, a thought appears at the forefront of his mind and it’s such a ridiculous thing that he is sure that it is true at this point.

“Did you see something?”

Most eyes in the room move to the Grandmaster. Yoda holds a smug smile on his face, that under any other circumstances, Ben would translate as a smirk.

“Lothal I visited, yes. Many things it showed me.” The shadow of a frown passes over Yoda’s face but it goes by too fast for Ben to start wondering. “But eyes I also have. Old I may be, but blind I am not!”

The cane shakes in his direction pointedly and Ben blinks back slowly, trying to make sense of that. And then the panic sets in.

The Jedi obviously sense his discomfort and fear because they shift in their seats, throwing uncertain glances his way. Ben watches Yoda, blood gone cold and a shiver crawling up his spine.

“What does that mean?” Anakin’s whisper carries over from the back of the room and Ben’s spine goes rigid.

Yoda throws him a knowing look before appointing a cheerful smile in Anakin’s direction, more for Ben’s benefit than for whatever charade the old Jedi is keeping up. Because he will not keep it up for long.

As if to prove his thoughts true, Yoda shifts forward in his chair, leaning towards Ben and resting his weight on his cane. The line of his mouth is curved upwards and his eyes are clear and warm, but his face is devoid of any particular emotion.

“Your legacy, you are burdened by, Ben Solo. Names that hold no meaning to you, continue to crush you. A past you had no control over, is chaining you down.” Yoda slams his cane to the floor and the dull _thunk_ reverberates around the room. “Weak you are, because of them.”

Ben feels as if Yoda has reached over and punched a whole right through his chest. The merciless vulnerability that swallows him almost makes him sick. It’s been a _kriffing_ long time since the entirety of his soul has been displayed for the whole galaxy to see and even back then, it hadn’t been such a public affair. He is afraid to look any of them in the eye anymore. But Yoda got one thing right.

“That is true,” there is a self-deprecating smile on his face, Ben feels it stretch painfully at the corners of his mouth, “I was weak when it mattered the most, and I left her to fight alone. And die alone.” His voice crumbles by that point, but Yoda is nothing if not thorough.

He also has no mercy, Ben is quick to learn. Not when he wants to drive a point home.

“A beginning it is, that you can see it now.”

Despite the peaceful resolution, Ben can’t quite resist the opportunity to be scathing and return Yoda’s efforts twofold, just so he can make matters worse.

“You Jedi always claim to be there to guide those in need of help. You never hesitated to guide my uncle’s hand when he was training to become a Jedi.” The glare Ben sends, he only sends to Yoda, because the Grandmaster might be the only one who has the slightest idea what he is talking about. Even so, most of the Council is at the edge of their seats by now, listening with rapt attention, but little understanding of the contexts. “Yet I’ve never seen any Force ghost rise to help me when I needed them most.”

Yoda hums as he works out this problem. Windu lifts an eyebrow and regards Ben in a new, suspicious light that feels somewhat degrading. Obi-Wan’s eyes do not waver from Ben’s prone form, yet he catches Anakin’s gaze wandering around the room more often than not. His grandfather’s confusion would be funny, if the situation wasn’t so terrible.

“All your life, this darkness has haunted you, yes? Your mother to protect yourself she taught you, did she not?”

Ben masks his surprise with a nod.

“Then obvious it is!” A gnarled finger points at his head with all the confidence in the world. “From the very beginning, your mind closed it was. Against invasion you protected it yet the walls large and tight, you made them. Never bypass those barriers, Force ghosts can.”

It is surreal, but the confusing explanation might hold some foothold in reality. Ben thinks back to every technique his mother had instructed him on. Her methods were rudimentary, but they held somewhat, until Snoke garnered more dexterity to navigate around them. And after Leia could do nothing more, she sent Ben to Luke Skywalker and that man drilled a dozen of other approaches to building barriers around his mind.

Ever since he stepped foot on Exegol as Ben Solo, he felt unintelligible whispers at the back of his mind, scratches that insisted to be noticed yet Ben neither had the patience nor the time to understand them right then. And when he was navigating that slippery wall of rock to get back up to the throne room, Ben felt the whispers amplify again, but he had been too concentrated on not falling to start listening to them. And just when he had grabbed the last handhold at the edge of the pit, they ceased for good. But other things had demanded his attention in those horrible moments, and Ben hadn’t thought of them again.

Maybe what Yoda said is true and if it is, then Ben has the answer he needs along with the way to finally reach out and settle some old grudges for good.

Yoda watches him patiently, waiting for Ben to arrive at the resolution on his own. He nods, waving aside his resentment and irritation. He can deal with them later. Now Ben needs to power through what is left of this lengthy and, largely unnerving discussion.

Not only did Yoda start dissecting Ben’s life and soul, they dithered a little too close to dangerous territory. Whatever else happens on his trip here, Ben would like to avoid slipping out the truth about his family to, well, _his family_. It’s the last thing he needs – his grandfather asking the hard questions. He can already feel the incoming storm that is Anakin, demanding information about how to resurrect people from certain death.

Regardless, it is something that Ben will have to take care of in a careful measure.

At the end of his long string of thoughts, Ben clears his throat and shifts his weight on his left leg, masking the wince that shoots up his right one with a question.

“Then what do you propose I do now?” His voice filters through the soundless void of the Council’s chambers, creating a reaction akin to a shockwave in its wake. “If you are certain that the temple will not accept my presence on Lothal?”

Yoda hums, rocking back in his chair, but it is Windu who speaks this time.

“What does the Force bond tell you?”

When Ben simply continues to look on blankly at him, the master relents with a sigh.

“The girl told us about that too.”

“You seem to have had a very fruitful discussion with this Rey girl, masters.” Obi-Wan remarks with a staggering amount of snark. It makes Ben lose his composure for a slim moment.

He scoffs and exchanges a guarded smile with Kenobi. It gets Ben thinking, wondering if he ought to get to know Obi-Wan better before he defines any sort of conclusion in his mind about this man. Maybe his mother had more than a frivolous reason to name him after someone she never even properly got to know. 

“Apparently.” Ben’s comment hardly helps his case.

Windu raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. Next to him, Yoda maybe chuckles, maybe wheezes, Ben is not sure at this point. On the other side of the room, smirks and huffs alert him that teaming up with Obi-Wan brought naught but amusement to the old Jedi.

“Young Rey felt she had to inform us of everything.” The Cerean says and Ben is relieved to see that he is at least taking the matter seriously. “So that we would be able to provide guidance to her.”

“And will you be able to provide it for me as well?” Ben asks dryly, already anticipating the answer.

Yoda tilts his head to the side as he regards the man in front of him. “Hardly guidance you need. What must be done, you know.”

Ben opens his mouth, but the Grandmaster shuts him up with a dangerous swipe of his cane.

“Meditate on it, you should. Yes, much better that is to do!”

The simple thought of opening himself up to the Force once more, to let all that clamor and jumble of energies into his mind in a place that amplifies it beyond measure, is enough to send Ben spiraling. Meditating is something that he dreads more than everything. He’s done it on Chandrila, in his parents’ apartment, but that place was hardly a nexus of power in the Force. All things here, all feelings, will be a thousand times more palpable and dangerous.

“The path, clear it will be.” Yoda reassures and it’s his words that Ben takes to heart and prays that he will get out of it still sane.

He nods, against his better judgement and, along with the Grandmaster’s satisfied nod back, the Jedi masters relax back in their seats. The unspoken announcement that this talk is over for the moment sends Ben reeling at the abruptness of its ending.

“Knight Skywalker,” Windu fixes his unnervingly steady gaze on Anakin, who meets it squarely in return, “you are to be in charge of Ben Solo during his stay.”

Ben would have chalked it up to a certain number of stars aligning on the wrong side of the galaxy today for this to happen to him, but one look to Yoda’s weathered face tells him that it is by far irony at play here.

“Comfortable, help him get. The meditation chambers, guide him to.”

Anakin nods, unperturbed by his newest mission. At his side, Ashoka is rocking on the balls of her feet, her presence in the Force sunny and excited. What Ben wouldn’t give to share in her enthusiasm.

At some point in the past, he would have given anything to be where he is right now. But that time has passed and spending time with his grandfather feels like the most precarious thing he has to do. Ben is afraid to expect anything, yet he expects everything.

“Understood, masters.”

Ben takes two more seconds to look over the Jedi in front of him before he turns on his heels and files out just after Ashoka. His grandfather demonstrates a good deal of manners as he bows to the room at large and then exits after his charge.

He takes one moment to look Ben over, truly and maybe for the first time ever. Ben feels like he is on the other end of a pair of micro-magnifying goggles. He tries to play it down, how uncomfortable he feels with that striking blue gaze on him. It burns, as if the sky itself turned radioactive.

“Are you hungry?”

Ben shifts his gaze from his grandfather’s unnervingly silent form to the young Togruta woman, with a smile the size of her face. He thinks on it for a second before he shakes his head.

Ashoka frowns, as she should, because she knows as well as he does that Ben slept eighteen hours and fought for two more. He should be inhaling food right now.

The padawan opens her mouth, intent on trying to convince him otherwise when Anakin speaks for the first time.

“Why don’t you go down to the mess hall and grab us all something to eat, Snips? We’ll meet you in the Fountains’ room.”

Ashoka grunts, a low sound that denotes how unhappy she is with this arrangement. Ben keeps his mouth shut tight as his grandfather throws one last uncertain look at the closed doors of the Council room.

“We should get out of here anyways.”

Anakin never lets him out of his sight, but Ben expected that. What he did not expect was the sheer number of small children and teenagers running through these halls.

The Jedi of old were always, inside his mind at least, old men with presumptuous ideas about life and the Force. These children, running through the halls, their giggles echoing beyond the colossal pillars of stone, were not part of the picture his imagination painted.

They weave in and out of hallways. Ashoka leaves them at a nondescript crossroads, and they continue on, with Ben studying Anakin’s back and Anakin pretending to be preoccupied with finding the way. In truth, Ben can almost taste the sheer anxious energy the man emanates. He is so close to grabbing the front of Ben’s shirt and shaking him until he answers all his questions.

The general buzz of the wide hallways falls into a serene calm as they descend closer to the base of the temple. Ben looks on curiously, as the wide pillars are steadily replaced by smooth walls, a granite with tempered colors that hardly distract people’s attention from the low, grey ceiling above.

It feels like the hall is getting smaller and smaller the further they walk. Ben is just about to remark on this fact out loud when the tunnel abruptly ends and, without missing a beat, Anakin steps into a completely different world.

The stone floor beneath Ben’s feet is replaced by damp earth, covered in grass and dry leaves. There is a steady thrum of falling water that overlaps with the hum of the Force, so pure and crystal clear that it overwhelms all other senses the moment Ben fully enters the garden. His eyes adapt slower to the change in brightness but when they do, they widen at the sight of the dome-like design of the ceiling. It is cluttered by tall trees, with crowns of dark green leaves and bushes, all brimming with blooming flowers. He’s only ever seen such diversity of plants back in the Skygarden, yet the way they grow here feels much more organic. The room is filled with rock and earth terraces set at regular intervals, like a set of great stairs building towards the ceiling, where shy sunrays filter in through the transparisteel windows.

Ben doesn’t understand how a room so deep under the temple could hold this much sunlight.

He takes a few more experimental steps inside, studying with great interest how this design facilitated the simulation of natural waterfalls in such a large number. Ben sees how they made this piece of lost nature inside a metal cage and he knows that a great deal of effort and coaxing with help from the Force has been expended in order to achieve something like this.

His grandfather does not stop long enough to let Ben accommodate and gawk in true tourist fashion. Anakin pushes onwards, further inside the room, towards the wall of earth and stone that looks like a natural piece of a mountain and not like a confection made by the Jedi. They take a set of steps carved into the rock and climb from one level to the next. Along the way, Ben spots a few other Jedi, deep into meditation, their faces slack and the Force swirling in strong currents around their bodies.

The Force is pulsing in this place, like a great beating heart, feeding the earth and the lifeforms within from a well of infinite energy. He barely has time to wonder how the Jedi are able to channel the Force so acutely into this room, when his grandfather stops at the base of a tree and sits down unceremoniously.

Ben sees the invitation in his eyes, thinly veiling an outright order, and plops down next to Anakin. As he leans against the thick bark of the tree, Ben looks over the small clearing they made camp in, trying to figure out all the types of plants he sees but coming up ridiculously short on knowledge. They are somewhat close to the edge of the outcropping and the view is wonderful. The air tinted with particles from the falling water that create a million of twinkling stars as they pass in the shards of light falling from the ceiling.

There is a certain peacefulness to this space, that Ben has never experienced before, even back on Yavin.

He is in the middle of counting the stone walkways he can glimpse over the rim of their rockface when Anakin eventually speaks.

“May I ask you…”

Even without glancing at him, Ben can picture the uncertainness on his face, as the same thing is tainting his voice.

He finally turns his head when the question is not forthcoming. His grandfather is glaring into the distance, at nothing in general, and his hands are tightened into fists in his lap. Still, Ben waits and tries to offer Anakin a semblance of intimacy until he can gather himself together again.

Anakin gulps back visibly. “About the girl. Rey. And how you were able to bring her back from death.” A mirthless laugh. “I thought that such things were impossible!”

Ben averts his eyes and tries to distract himself from the sight of his grandfather’s desperation, the hopeless look in the man’s eyes as he reaches out for anything that he can think of in order to stop his visions from taking shape in reality. He feels Anakin’s self-loathing at his own weakness and Ben empathizes with the way his grandfather has shut himself off from his friends and his masters, because he knows that none of them will lift a finger to help him. He is alone, lost and fighting against fate and the Force and drowning because of it.

Just like Ben had fought, tooth and nail, to prove everyone in the galaxy how wrong they were when they claimed him doomed to follow in Darth Vader’s footsteps. Yet the people who should have stood by his side all the while – his _family_ – they abandoned him, shipped him off and ultimately tried to kill him when they thought that the dark side was closing in too fast.

Ben never had a choice and, looking at him now, neither does Anakin Skywalker. Both of them are the result of a madman’s manipulations, both destined to fall and become the stepping stones for a Sith’s rise to power.

In this quiet moment, while Ben doesn’t dare watch his grandfather suffer and tries his best not to sob at how heavy with guilt and rage Anakin’s energy signature is, Ben more or less glimpses himself in Anakin. It’s ridiculous, and more than a little depressing, how both of their stories are so similar, culminating with a closing point when they both die just when they finally make the right choice. A condemned family, one that is fated to repeat the same mistakes over and over until they are all well and truly dead. His skin crawls just from that awful thought alone.

There is a derisive laugh burning at the back of his throat now, but Ben swallows it down. No need to seem insane in such a delicate moment. Unfortunately, the answer to Anakin’s plead is more elusive than Ben would like, because he is faced with a conundrum here. If he answers Anakin truthfully, then he changes the whole course of the future and maybe even his family’s fate. Would he dare do this, even at the cost of erasing himself from existence?

Ben closes his eyes tightly and inhales deeply. He will not be erased from this point in time, but the future will shift to not integrate him anymore. Or who knows? Maybe Ben Solo will still be born, but in a future where he gets to meet his grandparents. Where the galaxy is just a little better and life is just a tad kinder. Maybe that young Ben will get to meet Rey under different circumstances, and they will get to build a life between them that is real and joyful and every other thing that Ben feels out of his reach right now.

He needs to be strong for Rey, to not give up hope. But he also has to think of his family. He cannot leave his grandfather to his fate, especially when Ben knows just what kind of suffering waits for him.

“I thought so, too.” His voice is thick with emotions that Ben has done his best to avoid and suppress for too long now. “But there is a technique called Force healing.”

Anakin lifts an eyebrow and Ben studies the scar bisecting it with interest.

“I have heard of it. It’s what the healers use in the medbay.” He frowns, unsettled and a sliver accusing. “But that technique cannot bring the dead back.”

Ben grimaces, knows that he is right. He opens and closes his hands distractedly. Now that the subject has been broached, Ben’s own theories are about to come to light.

“It cannot, but what I used to bring Rey back is a variation on that technique, I think.”

“You think?” Anakin grouches and Ben chuckles against his will. His amusement is duly noted yet not frowned upon, which is a good sign, he thinks.

“It uses the same principles as Force healing, but instead of using a small amount of my energy and channeling the Force in a larger amount, I poured all my life force instead and used the Force only as a bridge between myself and her.”

By the time he finishes speaking, Anakin is outright frowning in confusion.

“But still,” his grandfather insists, and Ben knows that he has every right to doubt him after the godawful explanation he just pulled out of his ass, “I’ve seen healers spent almost all their energies and yet they barely managed to heal life-threatening injuries.”

Ben rubs the bridge of his nose, confounded by the situation. He reaches for an actual interpretation, because he is not about to admit to his grandfather that he barely knew what he was doing in those terrible moments. The whole fact that Ben had managed to crawl his way back to Rey in the first place is short of a miracle.

He remembers the sight of her pale, drawn face splattered with blood and unseeing eyes and the way his heart rightfully stopped along with hers. He had lived through three minutes without her, but they felt like an eternity.

When the blissful memory of the healing technique popped up inside his mind, he had grabbed at it with both hands. Better to die and offer Rey a chance to live a life she was denied all those years on Jakku. He did not have to think twice about it and Ben would do it again in a heartbeat.

His eyes widen when he realizes what he is missing. What Anakin and Padme Amidala are missing, in fact.

“It’s the power of the dyad.” He bursts out and successfully startles Anakin out of his brooding silence.

“What?”

“A dyad is a power like life itself.” Ben stammers through the words, trying to remember everything he had read, what Palpatine cackled out loud as he was taking all their energy back then. “Two souls that are one. It’s how a Force bond formed between us and how I could heal Rey and bring her back to life.”

This – this makes a lot of sense. Sadly, along with this revelation comes another, bitter one. His grandfather has no chance of ever being able to bring Padme back to life, no matter how hard he tries.

Ben is unaware of how things happened the first time around, but he is tempted to tell Anakin to do the exact opposite of what he would normally do, though that would probably serve to confuse the man more than help him at this point. It’s ridiculous, how a single family can hold such a streak of bad luck. They must be breaking some kinds of records.

Anakin’s reaction is expected, but Ben’s heart still breaks a little at the sight. The man looks half a word away from crying and he already feels bad enough. Just when Ben is in the middle of preparing some words of encouragement, his grandfather’s posture changes. Anakin’s energy crackles with such painful rage that it blinds Ben with its intensity. But just as it comes, it disappears, leaving Anakin breathing haggardly and glaring into the middle distance.

They stay like this, without a word spoken between them, until Ben hears footsteps closing in. He chances a glance over the edge of their outcropping and sees Ashoka trudging up the well beaten path towards them. Her hands are full of packaged foods and her eyes are downcast, struggling to navigate the rough terrain without stumbling and falling.

Ben sighs as his stomach promptly growls at the sight of the covered plates. He shoots Anakin one more unsteady look and says with as much sincerity as he can broadcast.

“For what is worth, I am sorry I wasn’t of much help. But you must not give up.”

Not like Anakin did the first time around and not like Ben did, when the world seemed dead set on placing him on a path already handpicked for him and him alone.

Anakin nods wordlessly and sits up to help Ashoka when she appears at the top of the stairway.

“They barely let me out of the mess hall with all this food.”

It is the first thing Ashoka says to them, unceremoniously dumping one plates in Anakin’s hands. Taken aback by her grumpiness, her master watches the young Togruta offer Ben the same treatment before gingerly sitting down and starting her meal without another word.

Ben exchanges a confused look with Anakin, but then turns to his food because this is certainly not his problem.

Anakin sits down next to his padawan, and directly in front of Ben. They eat silently for a while, with Ben stealing glances at them every now and then. He sometimes catches Anakin do the same. Ashoka remains with her gaze stubbornly planted on the trampled blades of grass on the ground.

She wolfs down her food in record time and Ben hides his smile with another bite out of his Nuna bacon sandwich and another glance in Anakin’s direction. His grandfather watches Ashoka critically, obviously trying to gauge whatever the problem is, or find a way to broach the subject. Ben would lie if he’d say that this development isn’t interesting as a third-party participant.

This is as good a chance as any to get to know more, not only about Anakin Skywalker, but about his padawan and the legendary Fulcrum.

“Look, Snips. I know you said you want a more active role, but this was a pretty crucial errand-“

Ashoka laughs, loud and short. She claps her palms together, trying to get rid of the leftover crumbs. Anakin throws her a small glare, which she promptly reciprocates, though Ben sees that it is more out of reflex than any real animosity.

“It is not about that and I’m not a youngling so stop treating me like one.” Ashoka deposits her plate to the side and Ben leans over to place his own empty one above hers.

“Then what’s the problem?”

Ben sees his grandfather’s finger tap his knee impatiently. Ashoka only offers a tight smile that makes matters worse.

“You will hear about it soon enough.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Room of a Thousand Fountains](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Room_of_a_Thousand_Fountains)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back and proudly present to you one of my favorite chapters of this fic to date 
> 
> enjoy!

* * *

_"You will hear about it soon enough.”_

* * *

**CORUSCANT**

With this ominous sentence, Ashoka turns her back to them and starts a breathing exercise. Anakin opens his mouth a couple of times, trying to form some kind of reply or intervention, but he’s got nothing.

Ben releases a long-suffering sigh, now that his only source of entertainment is already gone. This is where he should put aside all his reservations and try to do something useful like getting out of here, out of everyone’s lives. Until he screws up something very important by not resisting the urge to interfere.

He crosses his legs and inhales deeply, holding it in for as long as he can before letting it go. Ben orders his mind to still, his body to relax, and the Force to cooperate. He lets every inconsequential matter go and opens himself up to the Force.

It’s a surreal experience, because it turns out to be so different from every other time he ever meditated. The Force is a heaving ocean, with waves a thousand feet high that threaten to swallow Ben entirely, though what he feels from it isn’t anything threatening. This ocean might seem daunting because of its vastness, but it is actually welcoming him to tread further into its depths, like a siren’s call that he cannot resist.

Something inside of him calls on it with vigor, but Ben knows that he will lose himself if he strays too close to that well of uncharted energy. For years, the Force has been a weapon to him, used only for violence and self-defense, and now he is afraid of whatever repercussions might appear as he opens himself up to it fully after such a long time. So, Ben forces himself to continue breathing steadily and directs his attention inwardly, searching for that darkened void full of twinkling stars and the thin white thread snapped at one end.

He finds it easily enough, with a practiced ease that sends a wave of grief down his throat. The thread is still floating innocuously, as if nothing is wrong. There are fewer scattered fragments from it now, and Ben fears what it might mean.

He tugs at it with all his might, intent to get this over with as quickly as possible but no reaction comes. Frowning – or doing the equivalent of it in the Force – Ben tries again. When nothing happens on the fifth try, the fear he’s been holding back until now bursts forth. He is afraid of what this might mean. The bond seems to stubbornly refuse to cooperate, yet he feels that it’s still active.

Why won’t it cooperate with Ben? It’s not like he tried anything new; last time it cooperated without much prompting. Ben tugs again, but this time he feels the bond respond. He is taken aback when it heaves and pulls back.

Mentally, Ben dangles for a moment above a bottomless abyss, as the frustrating connection runs away from him. The he grabs at it frantically and glares at it through the Force. What does it want from him _now_?

Taking a deep mental breath, Ben concentrates; he tries to emulate exactly what he did the first time around. His memory is kind of fuzzy on the details, but Ben clearly remembers tugging at it. What’s its _kriffing_ problem then?

Absently, he chews over the fact that Rey won’t run into these kinds of problems because they all seem to prefer following Ben around. He bites his cheek and pokes at the bond. The white, translucent line seems to shiver for a moment. He tries again with the same result. Thankful that it’s not totally uncooperative, Ben munches over what to do for a minute before deciding on a new course of action.

“I need to find a way out of here.” The bond quivers slightly under his touch. “Rey.”

Ben reaches out in the Force and tugs at it, less forcefully than he did the first time around. His mind is on the only thing that matters, namely Rey and her sweet smile as she cupped his face. Even now, Ben feels the phantom touch of her fingertips on his cheek and he tries to ignore the way his heart flutters. Silently, he begs the bond to open up, to _show_ him a way back to her.

The bond weaves around his hand a little, but before Ben can think on the strange behavior, his vision flashes. The vision comes in muted images, fast paced and confusing, the more of them he sees. It’s like one of those bad holo presentations, where someone taps the files one after the other without much interest for the contents.

There is a flower field, and it would be beautiful if the colors were under the right brightness. A forest expands from it and then a mountain range, zooming out until all he can see is a planet, blue with oceans and dark green with continents. It’s veiled in a thin layer of white clouds, but without much of anything to identify it, Ben has no clue what planet this is. It’s worse that there are practically countless planets that will look the same from outer space.

The image changes before he is able to form another thought, and it shows him a beautiful woman this time. Her brown hair is up in an intricate string of braids and she is dressed in expensive garbs fit for a person of high status. Her figure is familiar though, and even though Ben has to squint, he realizes that she shares many of her features with his mother. The unknown woman disappears as fast as she appeared and, in her instead, Ben sees a space station.

Its round body is covered in layers and layers of weaponry and exhaust vents, but from the depression on the upper hemisphere, it is easy to put a name to it. The Death Star hovers in the void of space threateningly. Ben only has to turn his eyes away from it to catch the recognizable shape of the planet he just saw. But this time the vision is not static.

The Death Star moves, infinitely closer and in firing position. Despite probably being a trillion kilometers away from it, Ben feels the vibrations of the machinery and the heavy movement of the equipment onboard as it charges up. In a gut-wrenching moment, he realizes just what this moment means.

To his left, Alderaan faces its executioner stoically, a stony silence in a moment that seems to last forever. Ben wants to close his eyes. He certainly does not want to see the destruction of his mother’s planet. He has heard enough tearful, heart-wrenching stories in his childhood to be able to recount every minute detail, just like Leia remembered them. Unfortunately, the Force refuses his desperate pleading and offers no mercy as the Death Star’s ion cannon shoots out a beam of light green energy.

Alderaan explodes in a great shower of fireballs, large fragments of blind-hot rock that will undoubtedly become asteroids soon. 

The Force expels him just as the first shockwave hits his imaginary form and Ben gasps as his eyes fly open to a world not in ruins. He feels like he almost drowned, and when he grabs the front of his shirt, it’s soaked through with sweat.

“That didn’t look pleasant, even from out here.”

To his left, Ben finds Anakin watching him with furrowed brows. The man should be deep into meditation by now, yet here he is, scrutinizing Ben’s every move and whispering about it to the person in question.

“It wasn’t.” Ben bites out without much heat, still rattled about what he saw.

He cannot understand why the Force thought it so important that he assists in Alderaan’s destruction, but he can admit that it’s somewhat less bad than when the Hosnian System was destroyed right in front of him. At least here, he wasn’t able to feel the millions of Force signatures fading out of existence in the spur of a moment. He couldn’t hear the trillions of voices cry out at the same time before vanishing in the mist of the Force forever.

And now that the wave of indignance has passed, he can lean back and watch his grandfather flounder for an answer as Ben tries to get his frenzy heartbeat back in check. He thinks back on what he’s seen and it’s obvious that the Force is telling him to go to Alderaan. For what, he has no clue, though Ben can guess that it must have something to do with the fact that Alderaan is still here, in this time. From what scraps of information he can remember, it is a long while until the planet is destroyed, so at least he is safe from that. But what does his grandmother have to do with Alderaan then?

Movement close by alerts him to the fact that Anakin is sitting up. The Jedi plants his hands on his hips and sighs tiredly, as if he is the one who had to watch his mother’s home blow up live.

_Kriff_ , Ben is a prince of Alderaan and he just watched it be destroyed. The Force is a _kriffing_ little sadist, Ben will give it that.

It’d be nice, though – to get to see Alderaan in person, and not just out of his mother’s old stories. To get to enjoy the view of the Appenza Peak and maybe visit the Glarus Lagoons and the Istabith falls.

Ben wants to see his mother’s stories converge into palpable reality. Maybe he can finally achieve this dream now. And maybe, Ben will finally get to feel like he came home.

But first he will have to ask the Council for a ship and, hopefully, they will agree without much of a fuss. Their Grandmaster is the one who said that Lothal would be a dead end for him, surely Yoda won’t have anything to comment about Ben going to Alderaan to visit his extended family.

“You are in your head a lot.”

Ben startles out of his thoughts to see Anakin, still on his feet, looking down at him with a raised eyebrow. Chastised, Ben stands up. They are the same height, yet he feels like his grandfather’s form is a towering giant as the man looks at him down the length of his nose.

“Want to spar?”

The innocent question comes so out of the blue that Ben is momentarily derailed from his observations. Without waiting for an answer, Anakin turns on his heels and quickly descends to the previous level. The outcropping is free here and there is no danger that they might hurt Ashoka during their fight.

“I have no lightsaber.”

Anakin waves him off with a sly grin. “That’s fine. I told Snips to bring one from the training rooms just in case.”

He throws Ben a silver hilt that shines dully in the low light. Ben catches it without difficulty and inspects the object as Anakin makes a show of stretching the muscles in his arms and legs.

The hilt is shorter than what he’s used from his previous lightsaber, and it’s unadorned with any kind of decorations. It’s a simple, silver cylinder that is obviously mass fabricated for those who have yet to attempt building their own weapons.

Ben thumbs the ignition switch and the saber buzzes with a green blade. He gives it an experimental twirl and covers a grimace when the light hilt almost flies out of his hand.

It’s the last thing Ben needs – to get seriously injured from a stupid sparring match. With his track record, he will get a severe round of burns, even with a training lightsaber set on low.

“I set mine on the same level, so you don’t have to worry.” Anakin’s blade glows a brilliant blue and bathes his profile in a light not far off from those holos.

“Thanks, I got worried for a second.”

Anakin grins but instead of responding, he launches into a fast, offensive attack. His strikes are wide, but well aimed and Ben has to resort to deflecting with Djem So. He twists around and allows Anakin to follow his momentum and step forward while Ben brings his ‘saber around and attacks.

Anakin recovers quickly, deflects and, from then on, it is a duel between Ataru and Djem So, though Ben slides through other forms when the situation calls for it. He slips through Anakin’s guard a total number of three times, but each time his grandfather either employs the Force to somersault away or regains his composure fast enough to defend.

Incredibly fast, Ben might say. But Anakin’s techniques, as much as they are elaborate, seem to prefer dancing around his opponent more than any actual contact. Ben gets distracted about two times before he can see through his strategy and then Anakin has to change his approach and employ the use of force to break through.

What his grandfather is unaware of, is that using force in a fight is Ben’s specialty. He prefers overpowering his enemies through brute strength, especially because he is not one to be dancing around so daintily like the Ataru form calls for.

As he leans out of a wide swipe from Anakin’s blade, Ben changes his grip on the ‘saber and brings it in a downwards strike, followed by a swipe from a difficult angle and then another one. All the while, he side-steps, looking for an opening in Anakin’s guard.

Ben catches his grandfather gritting his teeth and he hides a smile with an unexpected flourish of coordinated movements. His grip changes again and the ‘saber comes up in an upwards strike. While Anakin is concentrated on keeping it down, Ben takes advantage of that single-minded focus and presses the off switch to disengage.

His blade disappears and, for a short second, Anakin remains suspended, blade in hand. A confused expression filters on his face when he bends down as his sword strikes the ground. Ben uses these three precious seconds to step out of the way and execute a sharp turn on his heel, bringing his sword around for a final blow to Anakin’s head.

He is shocked when Anakin manages to roll out of the way. His grandfather jumps to his feet a few feet away and renews his salve of attacks. Ben slips into Soresu, which makes Anakin’s brows jump up, but he continues on, undeterred.

But this is not a lasting strategy, Ben is well aware of that. He has never been good at passive fighting and he isn’t about to engage in such a boring style of fighting, but he needs a respite as he reconsiders strategies.

His grandfather is good, that much is obvious, but this was expected. Anakin Skywalker is a great Jedi and a very adept one at fighting with a lightsaber. Despite his preference for Ataru, Ben sees the versatility when the man charges in with Shii-Cho.

Ben flicks his wrist to direct the tip of his saber downwards and parries the basic strike Anakin comes at him with. He decides on Niiman, maybe out of a need to finish this or maybe because he wants to catch Anakin unprepared with his favorite form. Ben lifts his hand up and pushes the other man back with the Force.

Anakin keeps his feet firmly planted on the ground and takes a surprisingly short time to recover and counterattack. They trade blows for another minute and Ben is seriously sweating by the time Anakin skids back after another push with the Force finds him unprepared.

Anakin’s hair is plastered to his forehead, but he is grinning, and Ben isn’t quite sure that he isn’t grinning too. It’s been a while since he could just spar, without any consequences, without people expecting something out of him and, most importantly, without having to fear for his life. It is liberating in a way, being able to fight so freely and he senses that Anakin might be thinking along the same lines.

“Let’s finish this!” Anakin bellows as he raises his sword.

Ben sees the feint long before Anakin switches from a non-form to Djem So, but Ben remains on Niiman as he bows under the high arch swing of Anakin’s blade. He raises his in turn, but Anakin uses the Force to push from the ground and make a twisting jump above Ben’s head. His grandfather lands behind him, though Ben is already there to meet him. His palm is already at a level with Anakin’s chest and he sees the other man’s muscles contract as he prepares himself to be pushed back.

In a moment of inspiration, Ben closes his hand into a fist and pulls instead of pushing. Anakin’s eyes widen as he is forced closer to his opponent and his surprise is all Ben needs as he closes the distance between them in one wide step. His lightsaber is already switched off when he grabs Anakin’s ‘saber arm; Ben’s other arm comes under Anakin’s shoulder and he twists around, moving his center of gravity and planting his feet on the ground; with a mighty heave, he throws Anakin over his shoulder in one fluid motion.

Lightsaber flying from his grip, Anakin lands on the ground with a loud thud that takes his breath away. Ben winces even as he thumbs the on switch and points the tip of his lightsaber at his grandfather’s throat.

Despite his temporary breathlessness, Anakin manages a wide grin that chokes Ben up more than any other interaction he’s had with the man until now.

Duel hence finished, Ben deactivates the blade and extends an arm to help Anakin up.

“You are _really_ good, Ben!” Anakin says enthusiastically as he grips Ben’s forearm and lifts himself off the ground.

Ben isn’t sure what to say besides a sincere “Thank you.”

They have been watched by a large number of people, though after the fight is over most of the Jedi disperse. Yoda, Windu and Ashoka remain, with the latter shaking her head at Anakin, a teasing grin stretching over her face.

“Impressive moves, Ben Solo.” Mace Windu crosses his arms, eyes still analytically watching Ben’s every move.

“Mhmm, indeed, indeed!”

“The girl Rey did not lie to us when she said that you have Jedi training.” Windu insists and Ben grimaces most expressively.

“That was,” how does one say it, in one sentence, and without arising suspicion or straight up denouncing himself as an ex-dark side user, “a very long time ago.”

Anakin’s gaze moves from Ben’s pained expression to Windu’s unimpressed one. Yoda is the only one outright grinning. The Grandmaster hums and the silence turns awkward, so Anakin clears his throat.

“What brings you here, masters?”

Ben glances from Yoda’s pleased expression to the way Windu’s face seems to darken.

“There’s been-“

“Masters!” A woman’s voice cries out.

Ben looks to the entrance and, at once, is filled with awe and fear.

Padme Amidala strides towards them with all the confidence of a queen striding through her palace. Even though she is no Jedi, this woman seems at home, surrounded by these perpetually legendary people. But then again, she is quite legendary herself.

“My apologies for lagging behind!” Padme offers a tenuously polite smile. It changes though, when her bright eyes fall on the two people standing next to Ben. “Knight Skywalker, padawan Tano!” She greets with much more enthusiasm.

Obi-Wan walks up beside her and slides his hands into his large sleeves, a bemused expression over his face.

“Senator.” Anakin replies, a touch bewildered by this twist of situation.

“Senator Padme!” Ashoka bows her head, though her stance is anything but official.

Ben watches them exchange pleasantries, happy to be excluded and, most importantly, awarded the opportunity to study his grandmother in such close quarters.

She is much more beautiful than any holos he has ever seen. They definitely didn’t do her justice in encompassing the powerful presence that his grandmother exudes when she enters a room.

Padme’s gaze is bright and sharp, quietly overlooking the people gathered on the floor with a keen eye. Her words are tallied to be friendly, yet she is only more intimidating, from the way she carries herself to her strong tone of voice. There is no movement that is uncalculated, no smile wasted without a good cause.

Ben finds himself drawing comparisons between this woman and his mother, whom she might seem quite similar to, but at a closer look, Leia Organa was a very different type of person. Leia always strived to attain this level of steadfastness and poise that Padme so easily conveys. Every gesture and word, was always planned to the minute, never let unmeasured into the context before being uttered.

Sure, his mother had come very close to that threshold, but she was ultimately a woman whose words were like a knife blade to unsuspecting ears. On the spur of the moment, Leia transformed into a woman of action and damned any consequences or retaliation that stood in her way. Leia preferred jumping into the fray first, a tomboy as his father always acclaimed, much to her scandalous denials.

If something had gone wrong, she was the first one to leave and try to solve it, no matter if there might be someone else more appropriate for the task. No matter that she had a reputation to uphold, or that there might have been a more peaceful way to solve the problem. The first half-assed plan that jumped into her mind was her ultimate aim and she’d never let anyone stand in her way.

Padme though, she does not appear to Ben as someone that jumps in without having planned every step of the way very carefully, fully aware of the consequences. This is more Anakin’s shtick – enough dramatic family stories and arguments have taught him that. 

“And who is this?” Padme looks directly at him and Ben starts sweating again.

He also finds that he has no voice.

“This is Ben Solo.” Windu lifts a hand as he introduces him.

“The one we spoke to you about, he is.” Yoda nods along and hobbles closer to the Senator.

Ben’s grandmother nods, and Ben offers her a smile that is hopefully less puckered than he feels it to be. And just because his mother would probably manifest behind his back and smack him over the head for the impudence, he adds in a slightly wobbly voice.

“A pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Padme shallowly bows her head and then redirect her gaze to the Grandmaster. Ben surreptitiously exhaled in a relieved sigh. Her eyes are so much like Leia’s – it’s like talking to a distorted image of his mother. “Then he will be the only one to accompany us on our diplomatic mission?”

The last two words strung together like that bring back all kinds of nightmares, ranging from his early childhood to his teenager years. It’s like being eight years old again, and hearing his mother announce yet another relief or diplomatic mission of some sort where she would be gone for a whole week, maybe two. Once, it was a month. And she would leave Ben with his dad or, in worst case scenarios, with aunt Amilyn or one of his uncles.

“Padawan Tano is needed here at the Temple, so yes. Only Ben Solo will be coming with you.” Windu informs the general audience, which prompts several different kinds of responses.

Anakin, for one, looks scandalized. His mouth is open well before Windu finishes speaking. “Why is Ashoka needed he-“

“See,” Ashoka interrupts with a defeated smile, “I told you.”

Her master seems ready to go to war on her behalf, so Obi-Wan places a steadying hand on his former padawan’s shoulder and offers a succinct shake of his head. Padme holds a sad smile on her face as she stands, hands clasped over her embroidered green gown and watches them all patiently.

On his part, Ben steadily moves his gaze from one Jedi to the other before he rests it on Yoda. And glares.

“What diplomatic mission?” It comes off as cross, but Ben hopes that his dirty look is visibly tethered to Yoda and no one else.

Of course, it’s Padme who answers his question, in an amiable tone of voice. Ben senses her pulsing confusion and figures out that no one told her this particular passenger might be difficult to deal with.

“To Alderaan.”

The name slams into Ben with the force of a Starkiller base ion beam.

“I was formally invited to the palace on the occasion of Queen Organa’s birthday celebrations.” Padme beams, first at Anakin and then at Obi-Wan. Ben’s heart spams and he wonders if he’s entering cardiac arrest. “I’ve requested henceforth a couple of guards to accompany me on this journey, as the galaxy is quite unsafe at the moment. The Organas were cordial enough to accept some extra guests on my behalf.”

“Though I sense that there will be some business discussions as well, right Senator?” Obi-Wan’s eyes twinkle and Ben resists the urge to groan out loud.

He pinches the bridge of his nose instead, and inhales sharply before he looks Yoda dead in the eyes.

“May I speak with you, Grandmaster?”

Yoda’s chuckle is rasped, but he nonetheless hobbles away as per his request and Ben follows behind, throwing the occasional glance over his shoulder. They are all watching them curiously, and this serves to make him cringe more than the actual problem at hand.

When they get far enough away to safely whisper, Ben does so without preamble.

“How did you know about Alderaan?”

His accusation slides off the Grandmaster like water. Yoda leans forward on his cane, an uncanny smile over his thin lips.

“Many things, I have seen.”

Ben scoffs and bends down, hands on his knees, because he feels it will be more effective if he’s close to Yoda’s level.

“Banthashit! How can you know what the bond will show me?”

Yoda shakes his head at his defiance.

“Many things, the Force allows. Hard enough, if you look.” The cane lifts and almost collides with Ben’s nose. “Meditation, many benefits has.”

Ben rolls his eyes and purses his lips. “Then why didn’t you say it directly?!”

Yoda grunts and waves a clawed hand around. “Your hand, my job is not to hold. Such things, alone you must figure out.”

“But all of this,” at this Ben gesticulates far enough to encompass the whole damn temple, “would have gone by faster if you would have just said something!”

By now his whispers are quite loud, but Ben is frustrated enough with these obnoxious Jedi to care. Typical Jedi banthashit – they keep everything to themselves, even if they hold all the answers. For once Ben whishes that someone is willing to extend a hand and help someone without perpetually pushing for that person’s self-fulfillment.

“Convinced you, would I have?”

The abrupt question throws Ben off a little. He opens his mouth to say yes, but he cannot quite communicate the sound.

Yoda shakes his head again. “These trials, one must undertake alone. Searched the Force, I have, after Rey visited. Find you maybe I could, but nothing! Not a speck!”

Ben watches the old Jedi lean heavily on his cane, a desolate sigh falling from his lips that seems to have no place around him.

“Then lately, the Force only you, it shows me. Your past, future. Your family.”

Ben starts at this admission and his eyes widen at the implications.

“Then-“

“Everything I know. Mostly.” Yoda’s mouth curves upwards once more. “Also – old I may be, but blind I am not!”

A muscle in his right eye spasms suddenly and with good reason. Yoda simply continues, undeterred by Ben’s reaction.

“A long path, travelled you have. An even longer one, you must travel now.”

Ben remains speechless for a moment longer, then asks something completely off trajectory.

“Why did the Force show you all of that?”

Yoda smacks his lips together in deep thought. “That, I do not know. Help you, maybe I could.”

Ben tenses under the weight of the Grandmaster’s wise gaze. It feels like he already knows all the answers – past, present and future – to the complicated puzzle that is Ben. Nothing can surprise Yoda anymore, and yet the Jedi did not throw him in a cell on the lowest level of the Temple and threw away the key.

“But help you need not.”

It is quite an overwhelming thing to be told. Ben screws his eyes shut and breathes through his nose. He isn’t sure if there is happiness or relief flowing through his veins, in the face of the monumental occasion of receiving the metaphorical nod of approval from the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order. Ben supposes that it should make him feel better, yet he is only filled with more dread.

“That’s an affirmation full of underserved confidence.”

Yoda shrugs and starts walking away. “How you want, take it, young Solo. My opinion, I have spoken.”

Ben’s jaw clenches out of reflex as he straightens his back and moves to rejoin the group. Windu is somewhat glaring at him, but that is a mild look compared to the usual glowers Ben is starting to get used to.

“Settled then, it is.” Yoda says before Padme even has time to open her mouth.

She nods back graciously and offers Ben another nice smile before she turns to talk with Obi-Wan and Anakin.

“We have a room prepared for you.” Windu informs him and Ben is nothing but thankful. This day has taken a real toll on him.

There is one thing he needs to know first though.

“When are we leaving?”

It is Obi-Wan who answers this time. Ashoka stands behind him, hands crossed and a slightly grossed out expression on her face that Ben cannot place until he glances in Anakin and Padme’s direction. His grandparents are too busy throwing beady eyes at each other to notice anyone else present in the room.

Ben surreptitiously finds Yoda’s eyes and the old creature awards him with a smug smile that makes Ben’s stomach roil more than anything else. He absently wonders why Yoda lets this relationship run its course, even if it is strictly against the rules. He seriously wants to know how _Windu_ isn’t yet aware of it. Or hell, _Obi-Wan._

“First thing tomorrow morning.”

Ben nods and, with one last look in the direction of the preoccupied couple, turns and follows Windu out of the room of a thousand fountains.

* * *

It is much later when they finally left Ben alone that he feels safe enough to think. Laying on his back on the one-man bed the Jedi offered him, he dares let his mind think of her.

The ceiling is grey in the dim light that comes from the slit of a window, cut high into the opposite wall from the door. Coruscant’s high clamor barely slinks through the gap and the absence of noise causes Ben’s mind to overcompensate with thoughts that have no place here.

The last memory of her tender, happy smile as Rey strokes his cheek and the corner of his mouth. Ben can feel the phantom touch of her fingertips even now, and his hand unconsciously rises to touch that spot, hoping to summon it again, _hoping_ that maybe – _maybe_ he can conjure everything well enough to make it seem real. He remembers the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she called his name and he grieves the missed opportunities his supposed death deprived them of. The last chance to say her name and he wouldn’t. No, he couldn’t.

Ben had barely held on long enough, to try and memorize her face, knowing that it would be the last time he’d ever see it in this life. He doesn’t even know how he made it through that kiss, but he is glad he did. He’d never felt so complete, so at peace with a life that only gave him a never-ending stream of nightmares and grief. In that precious moment, Ben forgave the Force for everything he had ever suffered at its invisible hand, and he would have traded everything he had left for just one more minute with her. To be able to hold Rey one more minute and bask in her warm light.

Ben shudders and he blinks away the tears that gather in his eyes. The ceiling comes into sharp focus as his tears fall on the crisp white pillowcase, and he clears his throat, feeling a broken sob mounting at the base of his throat. He is afraid that it will result in a complete breakdown and he does not have time for such a thing, unfortunately. Right now, Ben needs to mentally prepare himself for the journey ahead.

He knows for a fact that the travel time between Coruscant and Corellia is about the same as it is in Alderaan’s case, though maybe it will take more because they have to change hyperlanes. To get from Coruscant to Corellia, you only need to jump onto the Corellian Trade Spine hyperlane, but for Alderaan, there is a switch to be made from the Perlimian Trade Route to the Commenor Run, about halfway through. Despite the fact that they will probably have a good ship with the newest hyperdrive available, it will still take precious time. Time that Ben feels rapidly dwindling, even if he isn’t sure why.

There is an urgency that suddenly manifests itself, burrowed deep inside his chest for too long and now clawing to the surface and vying for his attention. He has a sudden need to see Rey, to touch her but the thought that he cannot is destroying him slowly. Ben wonders, a good deal aggrieved, how much longer the Force plans to play with their lives like this.

His chest constricts and it’s suddenly hard to breath. Ben stands up and the bed squeaks under his weight. He breathes rapidly, watching dull, stray light rays pass by his window. In the sudden darkness, he screams until his throat is raw and when there is no sound coming from his open mouth anymore, he collapses on his back and grinds the heels of his palms until he sees colors instead of the grim void behind his eyelids.

He stays like that for a long while and, at some point, Ben falls asleep and he dreams.

Usually, he would have chalked it up to a usual dream – a sad, irritating and, most importantly, confusing experience. But the image changes about halfway through and this time Ben freezes inside his own mind. It’s never happened to him before, but he thinks that there is reason enough for this reaction.

The dream takes him to a broken-down building, still on fire and still slowly disintegrating as he watches. But the setting hardly keeps his attention for long. There are two beings in a ring of fire and bended metal, and they’ve sprung from Ben’s own brand of nightmares.

His grandfather – _Darth Vader_ – is standing before a kneeling figure, slimmer and shorter and so, _so_ achingly familiar that for a second Ben cannot place her. A yellow lightsaber is in Rey’s grip and she raises it over her head as Vader approaches, his own lightsaber burning with the color of spilt blood as he raises it over his head and has it descend without mercy towards her.

Ben feels powerless, he cannot even move, cannot lift a finger to help her but he needs to do _something_. As the hulking mass of doom approaches, much more rapidly than previously thought possible, and he sees Rey’s eyes close, Ben can only think of one thing to do. His yell is born out of reflex and his whole being visibly shakes with the need to jump between them in order to protect her.

But he cannot.

Ben forgets to reason with himself in that moment. This is just a dream, a creation of his subconscious.

_But what if it’s not?_

“REY!” His voice is scared, and it grates on his ears, but he goes on with one last, desperate command. “RUN!”

Something grabs him by the shoulder then, and turns him around from the scene, but he comes face to face with Vader. The mask glints under a set of nonexistent headlights. Ben thinks that he can probably trace every line of it with his eyes closed.

Vader’s breathing is the only thing he hears for a heartbeat and it is like a heartbeat pulsing in his body. His grandfather speaks then, robotic hand still gripping Ben’s shoulder, like a great weight that tries to make his knees crumble. It takes maybe one or two more stifling seconds for the grasp to become painful enough that Ben starts gritting his teeth.

“My grandson, Kylo Ren,” the mask comes closer and Ben’s eyes widen at the unexpected closeness, “welcome home.”

A scream erupts in the distance and their surroundings break at the seams, the edges melting into a room painted with blood. It is the room of a thousand fountains – Ben finds it in the scattered shrubbery and the gurgling sound of falling water, yet now it is ominous rather than calming.

Vader thrusts something at his chest and a surprised yelp falls from Ben’s mouth as he looks down. His old lightsaber is in his grandfather’s other hand. Its black hilt is splattered with blood and when Ben raises his hands – _whether to push Vader off, or to take that saber to protect himself, he doesn’t really know at this point_ – they are bathed in black red blood as well. Ben feels it seep into the creases of his palms and sees the glistening drops of the metallic liquid slide further down his arms and under his long sleeves.

Vader’s breathing combines with the waterfalls into a horrifying rendition of a haunting song and Ben dares a look to the side, half of him already anticipating what he might find there.

Corpses, numberless and faceless, dot the ground and every other free inch of space is bathed in splotches of red. It takes a moment, but his eyes finally fall on the crumpled figure at their feet. Its face is hidden from the way it fell to the ground, but the three buns gathered on its head are all the hint Ben needs. He claws at his throat, numb and uncomprehending.

Vader stands there, still as a statue.

He steps back forcefully.

Kylo Ren’s lightsaber falls with a dull, heartless _thud_.

Ben opens his mouth and releases a pitiful howl of grief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Lightsaber Forms](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Lightsaber_combat)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> been debating if i should change the chapter count, but then i decided that it's better to post it all up than cut it into small chapters and prolong it unnecessarily
> 
> so without further ado - please enjoy the chapter!

* * *

**CORUSCANT**

A persistent knocking at his door wakes him up from the deep recesses of his disturbing nightmare. The passing between dream and reality is disorienting enough to make him tumble out of bed and onto the cold stone floor.

Ben groans on the ground as the hydraulic door hisses open. When he turns his gaze to the unexpected guest, he finds Anakin watching him with a raised eyebrow, though the man’s gaze is somewhat worried as he takes in the early-morning image.

There is a constant stream of light coming from the window behind Ben and it bathes the Jedi, transforming his grandfather’s hair into solid gold.

“Good morning, Ben.” The man says with forced cheer. “Slept well?”

Ben offers a half-hearted glare as he stands up with a grunt and makes his way into the fiendishly small refresher. He can guess that Anakin is here to pick his ass up and make sure that Ben will be on Padme Amidala’s ship on time, ready to head for Alderaan. This prompts a curious inquiry from Ben.

“Am I late or something?”

He leans out of the doorway, towel in hand, to find Anakin seated on his rumpled covers, arms crossed and a bemused expression on his face. His grandfather looks incredibly composed, compared to Ben’s wrinkled shirt and mess of a hairdo.

“Not yet.” Anakin answers casually and cracks a grin at the indignant sound Ben gives up. “But they sent me to make sure that you will be in that ship on time. It’s our fault that we didn’t give you any more details about this departure.”

“That’s fine.” It’s redundant to keep pointing fingers just because the Jedi didn’t trust him enough with a place and a set hour for departure. Ben doesn’t completely trust them either and he would have honestly done the same if he was in their position. “I’m ready anyway.”

He lost his knapsack somewhere between traversing the Dune Sea and the flight to Coruscant, so the last important item he needs to pick up is his dirty jacket. Ben checks the inner pocket and is reassured to find the red Nightbloomer, a bit ruffled and dry at the edges, but still intact.

Ben nods to his grandfather and Anakin stands up with a small smile. He leads him out of the room and down the hallway, heading for the imposing entrance of the Temple.

During this admittedly lengthy journey, Ben tries his best to banish the last vestiges of his nightmare to the back of his mind, because the last thing he needs is to get distracted by something he isn’t even sure is real yet. It can be a vision, but it also may be just a notably creative dream when he considers how the next part of the nightmare goes. It was disturbing enough to experience it once, his mind certainly does not need to keep dissecting it, especially when the result will be the same either way.

He tries to distract himself by studying their surroundings, attempting to memorize every bit of this rare, surreal experience as he can before he departs from this place for good. Despite the fact that this place holds no emotional significance to him, as a child passionate about history, it is interesting to compare the Jedi Order’s Temple to the former Imperial Palace and how it is exactly the same yet not really.

Leia never did let young Ben come very close to the former Sith fortress, but he didn’t have to. Every time his family made planetfall, the shadow of its atrocities loomed over the awful clamor of those trillion of Force signatures like a great moon eclipsing the sun. He could always feel its tendrils at the back of his mind, reaching for him but not far enough to be able to touch his consciousness. Or maybe they did not have to, since Snoke was already at work, digging and burrowing inside his head like a worm.

Ben bites his lip and shakes his head to rid of the repetitious thoughts. He hates when his mind runs from under him, uncensured and always down the darkest paths possible.

“You alright, Ben?”

Anakin’s voice startles him out of his somber musings. Ben looks up as his grandfather slows his pace to equal his. The man lets Ben simmer for a few more moments in peace as he prepares an answer.

“I’m fine.” This reply is nowhere near what Anakin asked and Ben knows it. But it is a start, especially because he’s never let himself be completely honest with most people. At this point though, he’s just too tired to pretend otherwise and be convincing while he’s doing it. “Just had a nasty nightmare last night.”

Anakin grimaces in reply. Ben sees it in the way his grandfather’s eyes narrow, the skin at the corners tightening that Anakin can easily sympathize with him on a deeper level than necessarily reassuring. He is afraid to know what this might mean, but his grandfather seems dead set on offering him all the nasty details.

“I’m sorry. I definitely know how you feel.” Anakin glares in the distance, preoccupied with his own thoughts. “I know how it is to have inescapable nightmares. Pray that they will not become reality.”

Bile rises in Ben’s throat and his stomach churns uncomfortably at the foreboding words.

What can you even begin to say to this? Knowing what will happen in the end? That the conclusion to this story is not at all a happy or a hopeful one? How can one attempt to make that person feel better, while knowing that they are doomed to a life of death and destruction?

Ben cannot do that – not in good conscience. So, he offers the lamest, and most basic reply possible.

“I’m sorry.”

Anakin shoots him a look, definitely having thought that he’d have to offer details, but Ben is certainly not in the right space of mind to receive them first-hand like this. His grandfather does not pry though, and they continue down the hall in silence until the cloudless blue sky outside replaces the high ceiling of the Temple. The statues that line the path glint in the bright morning light and the wind whips at his hair as they descend the numerous steps towards the landing tarmac, where a Nubian design starship awaits.

Its silver exterior is maybe the most eye-catching thing in a click radius, yet Ben cannot help but admire its sleek design and sharp features built for speed and elegance. It is truly a ship fit for very high profile individuals.

“Still uncentered you are, Ben Solo.” Yoda’s voice comes from the side, abruptly and out of the blue, much like the masters himself as he jumps up to rest on Anakin’s shoulder.

Ben all but stumbles down the last set of stairs and straight into Anakin’s back. His grandfather isn’t faring much better at the unexpected appearance of the Grandmaster, clinging to his back as Yoda is. Anakin tries to look back, but he picks the wrong shoulder to glance over and gets a face full of Yoda’s back.

“A heading you have. More centered, I thought you will be.”

Ben winces and licks his dry lips because he has no answers for these accusations besides the lengthy breakdown of his most recent nightmare – which he will not be attempting to unbox, with such time restrictions and _audience_ around.

“I’m getting there.”

Anakin’s blue eyes twinkle in the morning sun. Ben offers a half-hearted smile before his gaze moves back to the suspiciously silent Grandmaster.

Yoda hums, amused if nothing else. It is not a new reaction from the old Jedi, but it’s certainly one of the ones Ben hates the most. He can never figure out if the situation is really that amusing, or Yoda tries to make it so for the sake of avoiding the depressive atmosphere.

“Good to know, that is. Looking forward to visiting Alderaan, are you?”

Ben sends a quick warning glare to the Jedi before begrudgingly nodding. He will not delude himself and say that he is not just incredibly excited to touch down on Alderaan already. He has a few destinations that he is adamant on visiting and a couple more that are optional but very desirable. Ben also has a few questions prepared for his grandmother because he wishes to gauge the general feeling of their visit there before making any concrete plans, though he is going to make sure to make his intentions are made clear.

Yoda guffaws again and slips down to the ground as Ben and Anakin halt at the cusp of the gangplank, where an impressive group of people is already gathered. Padme is nowhere to be seen, but Windu and the Togruta master are there and so is Obi-Wan, who greets them with a tired smile that does not quite reach his eyes.

Ben watches the Grandmaster hobble to Obi-Wan’s side, though he turns to face Ben once more even as he remains silent.

While Anakin exchanges a few whispered words with the other masters, Ben shifts from one foot to the other, uncomfortable under Yoda’s cryptic stare and definitely not enjoying being left out to stand like an idiot while his grandfather chats away.

Fortunately, the discussion is succinct, and it ends when Obi-Wan bows his head out of respect and steps onto the gangplank. Anakin follows the motion and Ben does the same, even though his respect for them is scarce. But the manners instilled by his mother so long ago dictate that he offers at least _some_ semblance of a formal goodbye to his hosts, no matter how aggravating or disingenuous they might be.

“May the Force be with you, Ben Solo.” In a curious turn of fate, Windu is the one who says this, without much grimacing or a mocking smile. He is especially somber as he and the other masters offer their own shallow bow of their heads in his direction.

It is a surprise, but not one big enough to render Ben speechless. He accepts their words politely, then turns and walks up the gangplank, passing by Anakin and almost colliding with Obi-Wan at the entrance.

The Jedi master is speaking with a young woman around Padme’s age and Ben frowns a little even as he side-steps them and walks into the ship proper. It is so luxurious, much more than his mother’s ships ever were, but he supposes that’s what you get for being a former queen and now a beloved Senator.

Ben supposes that the main hold is also the main part of the ship. It’s a long room, assembled into a kind of living space, with couches pulled up against the walls and low tables decorated with native Naboo flowers and expensive, tasteful accessories.

On one side of the space, a narrow stairway cuts through the wall and, judging by the shape of the ship, Ben guesses that it is the way to the cockpit. Further on, he spies another door and, when he turns around, he finds another on the other side. Probably leading to the living spaces and who knows what else.

“We are very lucky that the Queen of Naboo granted us the opportunity to use the royal ship for this mission.”

Ben turns around and finds Padme at his side, though how she got so close to him without making a sound remains a mystery. She holds an amiable smile on her face and her hands are clasped tightly in front of her dark purple robes.

“It is a very beautiful ship.” Ben agrees to a point over her shoulder. He has to consciously avoid looking at her hairstyle because he knows that he will start _gawking_.

He’s never shared aesthetic design opinions on regal hairstyles before, not even with his mother. Leia’s style of arranging her hair was tamer, Alderaanian in origin. Even knowing her true roots, she never did forgo the Alderaanian traditions and, after seeing two of Padme’s complex designs until now, he is somewhat thankful for that. Ben cannot imagine the amount of time and annoyance one is supposed to endure in order to sport this kind of ornate hairstyle. He truly admires his grandmother for upholding such traditions so flawlessly.

Padme’s eyes never stray from Ben’s face as she hums and takes a step back, holding out a hand in invitation.

“If you wish, you can take a seat in the main hold. We will serve a light meal in a couple of hours.”

Despite the tempting possibility, Ben shakes his head.

“I will just take a nap to pass the time. I didn’t get much sleep last night.” The last bit might be oversharing, but he feels bad refusing to join his grandmother without a good reason.

He walks forward, glancing about the room as he looks out for a good place to rest his head on.

Padme nods, unruffled, and follows him further inside. “Then if you’d like, we have a few cabins open.”

It sounds certainly nice, but something inside Ben rebels at the idea of being all alone with his thoughts again.

“Obi-Wan has already appropriated one, but there are plenty other rooms.”

But then again, nightmares might start to plague him again. Yet – even with the possibility of that happening, Ben cannot open his mouth and say ‘yes, I’d like one’. He spots a free couch instead, somewhere to the back of the angled room, where the slope of the outer plating of the ship collapses and closes into a sharp corner.

There’s a long, narrow window and Ben spots Coruscant’s traffic-loaded skies through the spotless transparisteel. It is already midmorning, though it feels like he’s been awake for over a day.

The couch he stops in front of is devoid of much accessories, but it holds a few fluffy, colorful pillows and it seems long enough that it won’t be that uncomfortable to sleep on.

“This will do.” He says and plops down without much ceremony.

Padme’s manicured eyebrow – decorated with small crystals that reflect the light prettily in the cold light of the cabin – rises in surprise.

“Are you sure?” She is taken aback, but when Ben nods she drops the matter.

She nods instead and leaves Ben to it, moving about the room to help organize her servants and make sure the rest of the guests are comfortable – though she is captured and held up a third of the way there by Anakin and his incessant talking. He spots Obi-Wan offer her a tight bow of his head, after which he turns on his heels and disappears to the back of the ship.

Ben watches Padme’s handmaidens scutter around and he feels the ship come to life as preparations are coming to a close for the journey ahead.

“Twenty-two hours flight time, Senator Amidala.”

“Thank you, captain. We are ready for take-off.”

Anakin occupies a couch on the opposite side of the room, barely glancing in Ben’s direction before the man closes his eyes and pretends to rest up. Ben continues to look at his grandfather for another moment before he drops his head on the other end of the couch and covers his head with the only pillow that does not represent a choking hazard.

* * *

The rest of the ride passes in whispered conversations and blurred images that never quite take shape. Ben is not sure for how much of it he is truly awake, but sometimes people are talking rapidly and other times cutlery clangs against plates with a teeth-gritting sound.

He dozes off after he recognizes no danger and maybe he manages to get a good five hours of sleep before another loud chat wakes him again. Ben does not open his eyes, but he doesn’t need to. The light blue of hyperspace is the only thing that would greet him anyways. But he does hear a conversation, carried against the backdrop of the rumbling engines – Padme and Anakin.

They talk in whispers, though sometimes they raise their voices enough for Ben to make sense of the words and not just listen aimlessly. He feels them through the Force, imagines them seated on the couch that Anakin sat on at the beginning of the journey. Padme giggles suddenly and swats at something and Anakin shushes her, warmth bleeding through his signature, before he starts telling her something else.

Ben waits for a crumb of anything to fall into his still hazy mind while he struggles to keep looking like he’s still asleep.

At one point, Ben figures they are talking about Naboo before the conversation abruptly shifts to his grandfather bad mouthing Windu and then they start gossiping in earnest. It derails Ben’s thoughts for a moment, because Ben never thought he’d see them like this – behaving like normal people. This is nothing like the legends of fear and awe they are always portrayed in. Just two people in love, talking aimlessly about anything and everything.

And, as his treacherous mind is wont to do, Ben starts thinking about Rey. He wonders if they will ever be able to talk freely like this, without much care of who might eavesdrop in their conversation. Just enjoying each other’s company without the fear of the world ripping itself apart or that time is running out.

Up until he died, most of the talks they had were as enemies, as two people on opposite sides of a war that never seems to end. And when it finally ended, so did the world.

Ben clenches his hand in the soft material of his pillow and struggles to empty his mind of these thoughts. He is still too tired and worn-out by that unsettling nightmare and he needs to be on top of his mental faculties if he wants to survive Alderaan. He thinks he succeeds because when he wakes up the next time, cutlery is clanging again but this time, he does not ignore it in favor of more sleep because his stomach is very loud in its protests.

The moment he takes the pillow off his face, a delicious aroma assaults his senses and Ben opens his eyes groggily to find Obi-Wan in attendance to the meal this time. The three of them are gathered around one of the low tables, eating in silence but they look up when he grudgingly trudges over there. His stomach grumbles too loudly to continue ignoring it.

Obi-Wan scuttles over, closer to Anakin and Padme shifts to accommodate him with whatever space she can spare. Ben shoots them a tight lipped, grateful smile as he basically drops down, crosses his legs and starts helping himself to the various meals prepared. The lessons instilled by his mother dictate the way he eats, halting his fervent reaching for anything edible he can find and tempering his chewing so as to not appear like a ravenous desert rat.

His mind shortly jumps to Rey at the unintended jab and half of him feels the grief while the other wonders if it’s true in her case.

“Did you sleep well?” Obi-Wan’s question distracts Ben from his thoughts long enough to avoid cutting a finger.

He looks up and finds the Jedi calmly taking him in. Ben, his namesake, the kid that received this great burden of a name from the get-go and Obi-Wan has no clue about it. Will never have a clue. Ben wants to ask him what he really thinks of the Jedi, what Obi-Wan’s opinion is on so many more sensible questions, but there is no chance of that happening even if he corners Obi-Wan alone.

For one, the Jedi master will spill everything to Anakin before Ben is completely done with his explanations. This may be presumptuous to say, but Ben _sees_ the way Obi-Wan is like an older brother – a father – to Anakin. There is no way that whatever Ben says to him won’t shake the man enough to go to Anakin right away, even if it’s not the best of ideas. Sometimes instinct wins before the mind has a chance to catch up.

“Yes, thanks.” Ben says through a mouthful of shuura fruit. There isn’t much in the category of delicacies on the table – this must be a snack in their eyes – but there is a decent amount to satisfy Ben’s large appetite.

He can see Anakin trying to bite down on a grin and Obi-Wan awards him with a soft glare and a shallow sigh.

“I am surprised that you were able to sleep for so long.” Padme intervenes before Obi-Wan can speak again. She is leaning her head in her palm, meal apparently done with. “You slept for almost ten hours.”

And yet eight hours too short. Ben is overwhelmed by the amount of time he still has on this flight. This is what happens when he doesn’t fight for his life before boarding a ship – he gets less sleep than he intended to get.

Ben feigns a surprised grunt and helps himself to another, strangely shaped purple fruit.

“I have a lot of sleep to catch up on.” The statement falls out of his mouth without much permission and Ben freezes in the act of slicing the thing on his plate. It’s mortifying, trying not to look them in the eyes, especially because he knows what he will find there and vice versa.

Many, many questions that warrant no answers that he can give.

“You do seem overly tired.” It’s Anakin who makes the remark, casual and without denoting anything of consequence. His grandfather is just making a light-hearted observation. “Time travels does that to you, I guess.”

This time Ben feels their curiosity burning like a small sun next to his face. He cannot even find it in himself to be surprised that his grandmother is already in the loop. These three are really incredible – and incredibly stupid if they think that Ben will start spewing without a torture chamber involved.

Ben shrugs, noncommittal in his disengagement, and continues on with his meal while he ponders if he has any chance to be able to feign rest again. For the moment, his mind feels clear enough that he doubts he will be able to fall asleep again.

“Are you excited,” Padme begins when the silence has stretched on a little too long for her liking, “to visit Alderaan?”

Ben takes a second to swallow his food, buying time to construct a pertinent answer that will satisfy his grandmother’s curiosity in a way he won’t spill anything too important.

“Yes, actually.” He answers, licking his lips and studiously avoids meeting anyone’s eyes. “My mother was from Alderaan, but I never got the chance to visit.”

Padme offers a surprised hum while Obi-Wan and Anakin exchange twin looks of confusion.

“Why not?”

Ben pointedly ignores his grandfather’s question with a wordless shrug as he dabs at his mouth with a napkin and resolutely refuses to budge and say anything more on the matter.

“May I ask,” he resolutely changes the subject, “what exactly is the nature of this visit?”

The two Jedi turn to the senator. Padme purses her lips, then smiles.

“It is as much of a formal visit as it is just a celebration between friends.”

“Which means?” Ben prompts when no further explanation feels forthcoming. His grandmother seems to like speaking in riddles, which certainly doesn’t appreciate after what experiences he’s had with his mother.

“Officially,” Padme clasps his hands on the table’s glassy surface, “we are there to discuss some new terms for an old trade route agreement. But unofficially, Queen Breha has invited us to her birthday party – her _informal_ birthday party. The formal one was a small affair last week with Alderaan’s heads of state.”

Finally satisfied, Ben nods. He taps his fingers against his knee as he tries to formulate his next words carefully.

“I’d like to explore Alderaan while there, if possible.”

Padme blinks at the sudden request. She exchanges a look full of meaning with Obi-Wan and Ben patiently waits for the verdict, all the while knowing that whatever they decide, he will still do whatever the hell he wants. Finally, his grandmother’s gaze shifts back to him and she nods, although hesitantly.

“Alright. I will speak with Breha and Bail about this.”

Ben offers a thin smile and nods before he sits up, the napkin left on his empty plate. He feels their gazes like a brand on his back all the way back to his spot on the couch, but his biggest problem is that they still have a solid seven hours and he’s got nothing to occupy himself with.

Watching the swirling lanes of hyperspace is not as fun as he remembers from his childhood. But he does that for a while, because it’s this or watching the three people at the table watch him in turn. At some point Obi-Wan retreats to meditate again and Padme approaches him warily, a datapad clutched in her hands. She extends it to him silently, her face a blank slate that unnerves Ben more than anything.

He accepts it graciously, surprised at the kind gesture and spends the rest of the journey mindlessly perusing the holonet, in search of a distraction from reality.

* * *

**ALDERAAN**

They land on Alderaan on a cheerful, sunny morning. The warm rays of the sun cradle the Naboo cruiser as it descends towards Aldera’s spaceport. The sky is only peppered with a few fluffy clouds that drift aimlessly and a cool breeze ruffles through the heavy crowns of the secular trees lining the main boulevard.

A welcoming party of high officers sent by the royal family greet them once their ship has touched down. Ben’s chest tightens the moment he takes his first step on Alderaanian ground. The tame wind whips at his hair, but Ben’s attention is on every other minute detail of this unknown planet.

He breathes in deeply, ignoring every other preparation for fanfare and logistic operations to bring them to the castle. Paradoxically, it feels like a much needed gulp of air after being underwater too long. The air is clean and crisp, and it stings his lungs, but Ben cannot have enough of it. The morning sun is bright, but its power is dampened somehow, and it barely provides enough warmth for Ben not to shiver in his thin jacket and shirt.

It must be close to the winter season then. He knows from his mother’s stories that Aldera is built on an island in the middle of a lake, surrounded by a chain of tall mountains, but he can neither see the crystal blue waters nor the snowy peaks. They are too far into the city to see them, surrounded by high, sharp pointed buildings protruding the clear blue sky and offering a dull metallic glint under the shy rays of light.

Their party emerges into a wide street, with only a few passing ground cars but filled with people strolling by, enjoying this nice beginning to their day. The royal guards loaded them into a large speeder, cropped in the front, but covered to the back and Ben occupies the last two seats in the back of the vehicle where he spends the journey reverently memorizing everything about this bustling city. The streets are barely crowded, and everything feels too large, like Ben is a little kid again, looking up to the sky with wide eyes filled with wonder and an open mouth.

It feels surreal, like he’s not really here but he has an out of body experience. Alderaan is everything he ever imagined and yet none of his assumptions were right. There was also no great entrance, no awesome welcoming of the lost prince of Alderaan.

Ben’s mind stutters to a stop and he bites down an acrimonious laugh – he is no high, lost royalty and there will be no grand reception. No one knows who he is, and it will remain this way. The royal family is alive, but he is no part of it. Not officially and not to their knowledge. He’s never been interested in upholding any title of eminence because it felt like yet another burden to his already overloaded shoulders.

But somehow, being here, Ben feels the same pull he did when his mother described her lost home planet. The same curiosity and strange feeling of contentment, but maybe that’s just Alderaan and its peaceful atmosphere. There’s a tranquility to the air, distinguishable at first glance. It centers him somewhat.

And today he will be able to meet his other grandparents – the people his mother considered to be her _real_ parents. The ones she was never afraid to speak of out loud, to offer as prime examples of kindness and courage. The ones whose footsteps Ben was always encouraged to follow. The curiosity is eating up at him, the incessant wondering whether his assumptions about them are accurate at all or nothing like reality. Just like in Alderaan’s case.

These thoughts occupy his mind and makes the lengthy journey slip by faster than he’d like. Their ride pulls up to the large gates of the palace and the capital city’s jewel comes into quick view as well. It is unclear where the city ends and the palace grounds begin because there are houses surrounding a good chunk of it, with only the gate separating them as separate entities.

Ben studies the artful metalwork wrought of iron and how the simple decorations create a beautiful pattern of nature, like trees’ branches intertwining and undulating under an inexistent wind.

They open automatically to admit them in and Ben spies at least three guards posted by the gates as their ride advances further onto the grounds. The large spires of the palace are hardly higher than the city’s skyscrapers, yet they nonetheless hold the imposing air of stately protectors. Their path widens into a paved road, fenced on both sides by a carpet of grass.

From what he can glimpse, the gardens are tidy, with neatly trimmed grass and native flowers arranged in varying patterns that combine beautifully with a plethora of white marble statues. Ben counts he ones he knows, the candlewick flowers, the ivy and a couple more that he cannot remember the name of.

The entrance is framed by several columns of a stone that looks just like fine white marble, but Ben sees enough differences to realize that it’s something else entirely. It’s a relatively small door that admits them inside, but once the reception hall opens all around them, Ben’s breath catches at the spartan interior.

The ceiling is simple, unremarkable, as are the columns lining the path further inside. Maybe they cross ways with one or two statues and a few simple, but ancient tapestries but nothing at all eye-catching. Very much unlike Naboo and very much unlike any other royal home he ever remembers visiting.

Their footsteps echo against the bare, beige walls. Ben doesn’t need to turn his head to find the other two pairs of footsteps that have joined them since stepping foot inside the palace. The royal guards are dressed in dark red garbs and hold blasters on their hips. They follow in their shadow, silent like the dead.

The hall ends up into another set of doors that opens just as Padme steps up. Two pairs of guards greet them on both sides as they step inside and the doors close just as fast as they opened.

The throne room Ben finds himself in is hardly more decorated than the rest of the space he’s seen until now, so his eyes naturally drift from the unfamiliar bereft walls to the two people on the raised dais. As their party advances, Ben can glimpse a little more than their silhouettes.

A finely dressed woman with hair in tight braids gathered on top of her head dressed in a light blue gown – a tame color that brings out the shy, golden leaves in her hair. Her sleeves are long, almost touching the ground and blending with the hem of her dress. She sits on the decently ornate throne, heavy with earthly themes of leaves and flowers, just like the room presents at the corners and through the stained glass windows. They paint the air in a bluish tinge that leaves Ben feeling like the queen is draped in flowing water.

The man next to the throne is tall and darker skinned, with a goatee and short hair. He is dressed in a stately green gown embroidered with golden filigree and stands at attention with both hands behind his back and a rigid line in the way he carries himself. It reminds Ben of the high officers he was always required to meet and later work with, but never quite able to share anything more than the mutual acquaintance of his parents or the cause they both worked towards.

The royal couple hold smiles on their faces and both of their expressions are relaxed, eyes crinkled at the edges and Ben is just hit by their kind attitude. They have gracefully accepted to welcome a total stranger (Ben) in their home, with only Padme’s word as a guarantee that he is not a spy or an assassin. It is unconceivable to Ben still, how deep their trust can go and how much optimism they hold.

His mother was right – Breha and Bail Organa offer the benefit of the doubt to anyone who crosses their path and they hold onto it until their confidence is broken.

“Welcome, my friends!” Queen Breha Organa smiles gracefully down at them and stands up. At her side, Bail nods and steps forward, helping the queen descend from the platform, now that the official greeting was uttered. “I am delighted to be in your presence once more.”

Padme courtesies shallowly, more out of personal conscience than really necessary. She embraces Breha when the woman reaches out. On the other hand, Bail begins with Ben, who is certainly unprepared for this turn of events.

“Bail Organa.” The viceroy extends a hand and Ben grips it and offers a weak shake as he desperately studies the older man’s face. “A pleasure to meet you.”

There is nothing there – nothing to indicate that they have any relation whatsoever and this is more heartbreaking than Ben though it would be. But blood is nothing in the face of real love, or so Leia Organa used to proclaim. That is to say, that blood is just as important, at which point his father would crack a wide grin and shake his head fondly.

“Ben. Solo.” Ben says haltingly, his voice a creaky, broken mess. Bail’s eyes twinkle and he offers a stronger shake back once before moving onto Obi-Wan.

At this point Breha is done patting both Obi-Wan’s and Anakin’s hands affectionately and she steps up to him with a warm smile over her lips that is decidedly something Leia inherited.

“Breha Organa, queen of Alderaan. So very nice to meet you!”

In yet another twist of fate, she draws Ben in a hug, all flowing robes and thin arms. Her grip is light on his back, and she smells sweet like flowers and tangerines and his mind flashes to his mother’s favorite perfume for a damning second. It’s all Ben can do not to start crying on the spot, though his hardly discreet sniffle draws a concerned look from both monarchs.

Ben flashes a tremulous smile that he hopes no one would insist on and steps back, hands behind his back and fists clenched so tight be can feel blood accumulating underneath his fingertips. His heart pounds so loudly, he feels each pulsation in his head and Ben forlornly wonders how they aren’t able to hear it too.

The rest of the greeting ceremony is spent between Obi-Wan and Padme conversing with Ben’s (second) grandparents while Anakin sometimes offers his input, though most of the time he spends watching Padme with a love-struck gaze that Ben finds decidedly unwelcome in such a setting.

He is also shocked that no one else sees it – or pretends not to, though he thinks he catches Bail eyeing the younger man critically, as if he too, wonders how Anakin has the nerve to display it in broad daylight. And on duty, to boot. Ben also continues to ask himself how Obi-Wan can miss such obvious signs. You would have to be physically blind and still the Force would be visibly swirling with the intensity of Anakin’s gaze on Padme.

Breha and Padme remain blissfully unaware as they continue their amiable conversation. They accomplish talking about everything and nothing in the wake of a few short minutes before Breha gestures for the guards to guide them towards their respective rooms.

This is how Ben finds himself in a dimly lit guest room, looking at the world outside his window. His room is probably located on the west wing because he cannot see the sun. What he can see, though, are the legendary mountains of his childhood. They are bigger, much more imposing than he’s ever imagined. He feels like a small speck of humanity compared to their timeless appearance.

Snow-capped peaks glint under the stray rays of the rising sun from the east, bathing their abrupt slopes in gold. He remembers every detail of his mother’s best story from her childhood – the one of her official challenges as an heir to the throne. Climbing the Appenza Peak in the challenge of the body and her subsequent adventures with the other children who accompanied her. Ben can almost picture it, all of it.

He looks away and blinks rapidly through the tears. It’s suddenly hard to breathe so he glances around the room, trying to disperse his bitter memories by studying the ancient wooden furniture of the room. They didn’t hesitate to paint the room a dark green, so in tune with the forest bordering this side of the palace, up to the edge of the island.

The bed is large and draped in different patterns, traditional alderaanian depictions and symbols in golden and red embroideries over dark green sheets and earth tones decorating the pillows, strewn artistically over the wide mattress. There is a dresser occupying one of the walls, the other is full of a small bookcase and a vanity table while the last holds a door to the refresher.

There are drapes over the large, open window that flutter in the weak breeze and Ben inhales the cold air greedily and wishes all the grief and bad memories away. He wishes that he will be able to enjoy this once in a lifetime opportunity without feeling himself fall apart with every step he takes.

Furtively, he asks himself why he thought it would be a good idea to come here. The Force might have told him to, but Ben also agreed to accompany Padme and her party after all. He could have taken a separate ship and slinked around, giving a wide berth to his adopted grandparents and all the missing memories he never had a chance to make. And he is afraid, _so afraid_ that he will get to miss these absent memories and mourn the chance he never got to make them. Because no matter the passage of time, there will always be a young child in his soul who never got to enjoy Alderaan and his grandparents’ company. Neither ones.

_And isn’t that just depressing when you think about it?_

Ben makes his way to the fresher, splashes achingly cold water on his face in an attempt to numb every passing emotion he can and then collapses onto his bed. He stares at the ceiling for a while, remembering that Anakin promised to come and pick him up when it’s time for dinner with the royal family.

So, the last prince of Alderaan closes his eyes against the backdrop of swishing leaves coming through the open window and falls quickly asleep.

* * *

Anakin does hold his promise to come and get him, and he spends ten minutes trying to wake Ben up. When he finally does, the Jedi Knight gets a full face of Ben’s legendary grumpy face and brooding mood because his rest was interrupted and rather rudely at that.

At least his grandfather has the decency to cover his grin with a long sleeve as Ben checks through the drawers in search of something more formal to wear than his crumpled shirt and stained army jacket.

It’s hard to shake off the grogginess he wakes up with, but somehow his rest was fitful, and his energy reserves replenished themselves some. After so long running on fumes, Ben feels refreshed enough to enjoy walking through the halls of the palace a little more.

Anakin brings him to a spacious dining room where a large, long table is already set and brimming full of traditional Alderaanian delicacies. Everyone else is already seated, though it doesn’t seem that they’ve been here long.

Bail stands up when Ben and Anakin enter the room while Breha simply turns and offers them a gracious smile. His grandfather directs him to a seat next to Obi-Wan while he takes his place next to Padme and directly across from him.

So many wonderful aromas waft from the table that Ben’s attention is mostly divided between deciding what to eat first and what to drink first. There is a dark red liquid in one glass pitcher that, Ben supposes, is some kind of wine. He sees another one with water and a third one with a thick juice that hardly falls into Obi-Wan’s glass. The Jedi exhibits incredible patience as he steadily keeps the pitcher in place and waits for the glass to fill up.

Ben catches Breha lift her glass from the corner of his eye. She clears her throat softly and pointedly meets every guest’s eyes before she begins speaking.

“Thank you, my friends. I cannot express how much pleasure it brings me that you could be here today. I am extremely happy to be your host on your _short_ visit.” Breha shoots Padme a lopsided smirk and the senator grins.

Padme rises her own glass and intones in a grand voice that makes the hair on the back of Ben’s neck stand up. This is the first time he felt how truly imposing his grandmother can truly be.

“To queen Breha, viceroy Bail and to the people of Alderaan!”

Ben raises his glass along, never feeling more like an intruder than he is right now.

The meal passes in relative silence as each one of them is concentrated on their meal, but when desert rolls around and Ben’s overstuffed with enough food to warrant another nap, the talk winds back up. Padme and Breha remain mostly in their own bubble as they rapidly pass through a list of common subjects while Bail, Obi-Wan and Anakin strike up a conversation on war tactics and recent developments in the convoluted conflict in the galaxy. Meanwhile Ben remains in his seat, eyes quietly studying the room they dined in because he was too hungry earlier to really notice it.

It is definitely more ornate than the rest of the palace – save the throne room maybe. There are flowing white curtains covering tall open windows that let the balmy evening breeze filter inside. The corners of the ceiling are sculpted with shapes of vegetables and fruits and the tapestries adorning the walls depict different culinary scenes from the planet’s history.

Ben is hardly versed in alderaanian culinary customs, mostly because his mother was better off staying away from the kitchen for everyone’s safety, but sometimes his father would try his hand at a stray recipe that tumbled into their hands.

Sometimes Aunt Winter would drop by with freshly baked pastries or the occasional bowl of hot soup. Ben especially loved these visits because the food was so exotic than the usual Corellian dishes his father cooked.

He cannot strictly disagree with his mother’s reticence to gather recipes, mostly because he now understands Leia’s point of view. Most of this food is made with local ingredients and, after the planet was blown up, many important things were impossible to find anymore. And cooking with replacements just doesn’t cut it.

Ben remembers the dramas from his childhood, how alderaanian delegates kept whining to his mother that they don’t have enough seeds for this, that they lost the last species of some other plant, that the fruits grown in foreign soil just don’t have the same taste. It was a tragic thing for Leia, but for a small kid like Ben it felt utterly insignificant, though he thinks he gets it now. Alderaanian food is simple, modest just like its citizens and culture, but it is also insanely delicious when the right dishes are combined.

Ben broods on this, trying to figure out how well switching through the different delicacies and mixing them differently would go, while he nurses a glass of incredible Chimbak wine and ignores the conversations around him.

It is only out of reflex and probably the Force that a sliver of his attention turns towards the speaker just in time to hear the end of a sentence and the beginning of a new one.

“…and I suppose that we shall have to discuss these new reforms in deeper detail. But there is something else I find myself interested in right now.”

The room falls silent and Ben turns his head just as Breha addresses him for the first time this evening.

“I trust you are enjoying your stay with us, Ben Solo?”

Ben hastens to nod his agreement, suddenly wordless in the face of the abrupt change of topic and focus in the room.

“I’m glad.” Breha smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Padme was telling me earlier that you wish to visit more of our planet in the days to come.”

Ben takes a quick sip of the wine and then clears his throat, slightly awkward to be speaking.

“Yes, I would enjoy that very much.”

“My apologies but, are you a Jedi?” Bail asks tentatively, clasping his hands on the table in front of him. “We’ve never really asked our friends here, but I don’t really see you as a diplomat.”

Ben bites down a self-condescending scoff and leans back in his seat.

“No, I am neither.” This brings forth a fresh wave of confusion to the royal family and a pulsing curiosity from his grandmother. It seems that neither Anakin nor Obi-Wan have deemed it necessary to inform Padme of Ben’s true origins. Or maybe they studiously avoided the topic however they could. “I am just a traveler passing by. My mother was from Alderaan though, but I never got to visit.”

Breha and Bail exchange an inscrutable look and Ben lets them stew over the information. Sob story aside, he’s really hoping that they would let him roam the planet and impose little restrictions to his movements. He balks at the thought of needing to be constantly followed by some pompous set of royal guards.

“I see. And where is your father from?” Bail asks, crossing his arms over his chest. There is nothing but pure interest in there and Ben cannot see anything wrong indulging it a little bit.

“Corellia.”

Breha scoffs, though not unkindly, while Padme bites down a smile. Corellia has their fair share of refined people, but their cultures are certainly heavy in differences and opposing ideologies. Maybe that is one of the reasons for his parents’ frequent fights, though not the most important one.

Leia Organa and Han Solo had between them enough clashing tempers and stubbornness that they nulled every other trivial obstacles. 

“Kind of an unorthodox match, but certainly not uncommon.” Breha allows and considers Ben for a minute more before speaking again. “You are obviously allowed to visit Alderaan, of course. And should you need an escort, we shall gladly provide.”

A short sigh of relief escapes Ben at her words.

“No, I think I will manage, but thank you.”

Breha nods. Bail takes a moment before he follows suit and with this out of the way, the evening resumes to other, more delicate subjects of conversation that Ben has no input for. He enjoys his time, watching from the sidelines and plotting his next move while he continues to sip at his bittersweet glass of wine.

* * *

He decides to climb on the Appenza Peak first.

The air is dastardly cold even halfway up the mountain where the usable road for speeders ends and the steep footpath begins. Ben leaves his disgruntled escort behind – because while the royal couple is trusty enough to let him roam around, they sensibly point out that since he’s never been here before, he won’t find whatever places he wants to visit – and makes short work of the rest of the mountain.

The climb was not so bad, though the air eventually got cold enough to prompt him to snuggle more in the thick fleece jacket Breha all but forced onto Ben. He considered it a stupid idea, but now he profoundly thanks his grandmother for her thoughtfulness. Once he breaks through the layer of thin clouds and gets to the top, Ben’s breath hitches at the wonderful landscape that greets him back.

It is a clear, sunny day and Aldera is glittering under the lukewarm rays of the sun, all high and sharp pikes piercing towards the sky in the middle of the large island the city is built on. The lake surrounding it gleams emerald and its surface reflects the light with only slight interruptions of dark green corrals.

It is moments like these when Ben truly feels one with nature. The tendrils of the Force are more powerful here, on top of the world, yet it’s only peace that he encounters. There is no conflict, no disturbances that have no place there, like Ben is so used to sensing.

He closes his eyes and can picture everything perfectly, cut out of energy signatures that shimmer and burst as life and death happen all around him. It is vivid and he hates it as much as he enjoys it. He hates to enjoy it, yet something inside of him falls at peace as well, along with Alderaan and its forest, seas and lands.

Ben stays there until the sun threatens to drop over the western horizon. It’s like coming out of a trance, when he hears the palace guards hailing him over the comm and he hurries on back down because, as much as he enjoys being alone up here, he wouldn’t enjoy encountering a pack of wolf-cats with no weapon on his hands.

He goes to the Glarus Lagoons the next day and since it is a one-day journey he makes it a trip. The same guards that followed him on the first day are ordered to keep shadowing him and despite his grumbles, Ben puts up no fight because he is still, essentially, an outsider and a stranger. Barely half an Alderaanian and definitely not a member of the royal family.

The lagoons are maybe more glorious than Appenza Peak – small bodies of water surrounded by steep rock inclines and jagged boulders on all sides, yet they have become almost perfect circles. There are more than ten, all peppered on the side of a rocky plateau that gives off onto a beach with sand so white, Ben has to shield his eyes. The ocean on the other side is a fretful mess this late into the warm season, but the vegetation all around still teems with unbridled life.

Ben uses the excuse of the slightly hot weather of the afternoon to dip his feet into the shallows of a lagoon, enjoying the calming numbness that spreads through his body because of the ice-cold waters. He splashes around and sunbathes on the rocks nearby, warming in the sun’s light until there is no sun left. And then he goes on to the next destination on his checklist.

His mother often spoke of the falls to the southernmost point of the continent as an amazing feat of nature. Leia’s words were always mired with awed fervor as she enthusiastically described them as a great cloud crowning the top of a crystal blue lake filled with multicolored fish.

Ben can attest that he’s never seen anything quite like it.

It is true indeed that there is a literal cloud just sitting there, made out of the billowing spray of the water hitting the other, static water already gathered below with great force. There is also an incessant humidity to the air that immediately makes Ben’s hair stick out in all directions.

His hereditary curls come out in full force and he all but dunks his head in the water when he spies his reflection in the tranquil surface next to the shore. Nevertheless, the guards say nothing of his treacherous hairstyle, and Ben continues with his casual observations and not so casual sketches and descriptions that he meticulously jots down.

Ever since stepping foot outside the palace, Ben never leaves without the small, battered agenda he received from Bail as a favor – in Ben’s eyes. In the viceroy’s eyes, the agenda was nothing but a gesture of good will, offered because Bail saw the wonder and excitement in this young man’s eyes, yet he also glimpsed a moment of the fear Ben harbors inside. Of what, Bail couldn’t figure out and Ben never forwards more than a sincere thank you in return.

Six days in and Ben is now on the last item of his list – the Istabith Falls. He isn’t really sure why he even wants to go there. His mother mentioned them once or twice, but they surely aren’t better than what he’s seen until now. Nonetheless, he gets there with a lot of time to spare since they are so close to Aldera. The atmosphere is unlike the rest of the places though. Whereas Appenza Peak was a nexus in the Force, and it served to bring him into a steady state of tranquility, the falls offer him a heavy laced pressure that builds and builds and presses down on Ben.

“There is a tradition on Alderaan that the Istabith Falls can offer clearance where there’s confusion.” One of the guards, the older, sager one says after Ben comes back with a disappointed expression on his face. “You have to stand under the spray, but I think it works if you stay as close to the falling water as you can too.”

Ben offers a raised brow in returns and looks back, uncertain and with a short amount of belief, but he finally sits down near the sculpted, smooth rocks. So close that he feels the spray on his face. He ignores the way his hair starts its usual rebellious streak in the presence of high humidity and closes his eyes, centers himself and for the first time in his life, Ben falls into meditation like a leaf over a pond.

So seamlessly and without having to struggle to order his thoughts and quiet his mind. It is a disquieting way to find out how easy it is to peruse the Force here. Alderaan is a planet so rich in its connection to the Force – Ben’s visits have convinced him of it. He cannot possibly imagine how bad the universe recoiled when the planet was destroyed. It must have been like cutting off a limb, or worse. Maybe that is why the Force has been such a frivolous creature in the years to come, with the war and everything else. Maybe that is why there was no balance when Luke thought it was. Sometimes it was, but many other times it wasn’t.

The guards shake him awake just when the sun dips under the horizon and escort him back to the palace. Ben is still dazed the next morning, mind still reeling over the impromptu meditation session from yesterday, yet he is still aware enough to participate in the conversation at the table. They are talking about an official visit of some distant cousin of the queen that is now an ambassador on some other planet Ben has only maybe heard of.

“We will get out of your way, don’t worry!” Padme is laughing, waving a hand over Breha’s protests.

Obi-Wan watches on, amused, while Anakin sulks and eats his food in silence.

Padme turns to the three of them with a beaming smile. She certainly seems in a great mood today. Ben watches her fingers twist in the thick material of her dress, aimlessly.

“I was thinking of spending the evening in the gardens. There is even a small forest behind the palace, which I heard that offers quite a view of the lake below!”

Obi-Wan hums in agreement, arms crossed over his chest. He looks once to his padawan, rolls his eyes and then meets Ben’s gaze with a small smirk.

“I suppose we shall accompany you, senator. Any trips scheduled for today, Ben?”

Ben shrugs, not liking the limelight yet unable to outright lie to them.

“Not today, no.”

Anakin finally lifts his eyes from his plate and fixes a ponderous stare on Ben, which his grandson steadily ignores.

“Then you will come with us?” Padme is all brimming energy today and it fills Ben’s chest with a nice, fuzzy feeling as well.

He smiles. “Sure.”

* * *

Their retreat is planned to the dot. Ben follows his grandfather out of the glass backdoors of the palace and into the garden proper. They travel the length of it twice, each time taking a new path and Padme uses the experience to admire the beautiful flowers growing there, smell them and wonder at their color and shapes.

Obi-Wan offers articulate answers, trying his best to keep up with the difficult subject. Ben sometimes interjects because he has a liberal knowledge of these kinds of things. Anakin continues on with wordless answers and half sounds as he smiles his way out of it.

It fills Ben with curiosity, but he keeps his mouth shut. There is something at the back of his mind that continues to scratch at his mental walls today and every time it gets stronger, Anakin winces as if he can feel it as well. Ben keeps an eye out for anything that may bring this strange feeling to fruition. Some small side of him is aware that this might be the signal – his way out of here.

There is much to see in the royal gardens on Alderaan, but the small, adjoining forest captivates their interest much more than the methodically placed beds of flowers do. It is amazing what nature can do, with only a few acres of land to work with.

The canopy is dense, a dark green color that brings incredible shade to ground level. Despite the jacket on his shoulders, Ben feels chilly in the slight breeze coming from the mass of water close by. His grandfather seems to be of the same opinion, judging from the way he rubs at his upper arms, teeth slightly chattering.

Obi-Wan eyes him with concern, though Ben sees that the Jedi master is barely holding onto what slimmer of body heat he can get. Padme on the other hand, strides forward, steps sure and unconcerned about the temperature. There are at least three layers of robes on her person, without adding the cloak over her shoulders onto the mix. Ben doubts she can feel any sort of temperature change unless they climb the Appenza Peak, but at that point Anakin might get hypothermia and capitulate on the spot.

Though his thoughts are strangely morbid, they are also a little funny in retrospect. Ben nibbles at his lip as they continue on forward, passing through the dense forest plane. Leaves swish, animals scutter away and the tall grass sways in the wind and rustles at their ankles. Ben loses count of how many thick barks they pass, but the forest only gets darker the more they advance.

Light barely penetrates when Padme stoops down to admire some sort of mushrooms, bright purple with green spots like they have moss growing onto them. She strikes up a debate over something with Obi-Wan and Anakin’s signature pulses in the Force forcefully. Ben completely understands his growing discomfort, but he cannot help Anakin more than Anakin can help himself. If he’d just open his big mouth and say what is on his mind, then maybe he won’t die a stupid death.

Ben’s head jerks back, slightly startled that his thoughts can be applied to much more than the current situation. It seems that his compartmentalizing is starting to fail sooner than he anticipated.

“We should head back.” Anakin rasps, voice scratchy.

Obi-Wan throws his padawan a concerned look but Padme is either oblivious or just in the mood to torture Anakin today.

“I wish to see the cliffs and the lake below.” His grandmother stands up and dusts her flowing beige robes. She barely offers Anakin a glance as she resumes walking. “If you wish to return, you may do as you please.”

Ben pauses to watch Anakin roll his eyes and huff in irritation while his master throws him a reproaching look and follows only after Anakin has taken five sure steps in Padme’s direction. Ben shakes his head and makes to follow them, but something stops him.

It is a whisper, low and soft. It urges him forward and Ben walks carefully, steps unsure and testing every inch of the ground he steps on. The alderaanian breeze ruffles through his hair and Ben pushes the offending bangs aside, too concentrated on his task to notice the shadows stretching taller or the sun almost disappearing behind the dense crown of leaves.

Padme’s sudden gasp a few tense minutes later has Ben breaking into a run to catch up with her. His grandmother stands on the edge of two worlds – at least that is how Ben sees it. His eyes are used to the dim brightness of the forest, yet when he gets to Padme’s spot, his vision is assaulted by a violent streak of light. It is nothing artificial though. Up there in the canopy, there is a part missing, an almost perfect circle.

One look around and it seems like this clearing is manmade. The trees skirting its edges are creating a perfect contour with their rough barks. Ben frowns, seeing branches grown in strange, twisted directions, as if shying away from the space itself.

“It is beautiful!” Padme breaths, her eyes wide with awe.

There are a myriad of flowers decorating the small spot, bathed in warm sunlight and burning bright colors. The colorful carpet all but gives Ben whiplash but the way they are displayed is concerning. They grow in circles too, facing inwards as if they are bowing towards the center of the clearing.

“What the he-“

“ _Anakin_.”

“Is this?”

Anakin toes the line between light and darkness and when nothing bad seems to go down, he sighs in relief and enters the circle. He immediately closes his eyes and smiles against the sudden warmth provided by the sun.

Ben continues to look around, worried and having a bad feeling about this. Obi-Wan also steps inside and Padme takes stock one more time of the beautiful picture before she decides that the best way to really admire the amazing plants was to inch closer and study them.

A sudden flutter of wings has Ben looking up from his spot, still in the cold darkness of the forest floor. In the tree nearest to his position, above his head and perched on a thin branch that bows under its weight, Ben finds a convor there. The animal is bigger than what other he’s seen in his life, with green and white feathers.

It nitpicks at something in his plumage before it raises its head and fixes Ben with the most startling green eyes he’s ever seen in an animal. There is something almost _sentient_ in that inscrutable gaze.

The convor releases a sound close to a hoot and flies away, landing on Ben’s left shoulder. Ben goes rigid, uncertain what the animal wants with him, but the moment he lets himself try to find out, he feels the reassuring sputter of the Force flowing through the bird, into Ben and further into the ground, like a huge and unending circuit.

Ben’s throat closes as he finally realizes that the bird is part of the message. Part of the Force telling him that this is it.

He looks back at the clearing and spots it. There, beyond Anakin happy sunbathing, Obi-Wan’s silent examinations of the flora and behind Padme’s tender caresses of a blue flower’s petals, he finds it in the middle of the clearing. There is a tall, yellow sunflower growing proud, its face turned in the sun’s direction. The rays illuminate it and almost make it glow.

Ben struggles for a moment, unsure now that he is face to face with the end of this journey. His heart yearns to stay on Alderaan just a second longer, but he knows that these stolen minutes will only bring him misery in the long run. Rey is waiting for him and no matter how much he wants it to, he cannot take Alderaan along with him into the future. It’s time to let old things die, as they should.

The sudden change from cold to hot is derailing in its intensity but Ben pushes forward on unsteady feet towards the center of the small world. The convor flaps its wings, certainly content to see Ben heading in the right direction. Strangely, no one notices the bird or Ben’s strange behavior. And now that he looks again, they don’t seem to see Ben at all, so lost in their own little worlds they are.

The sunflower is already turned in his direction when he steps up to it and the notion is unsettling as it is, but then Ben’s eyes fall on the small statue on the ground, resting next to the flower. He bends down, eyes trailing over the foreign inscriptions and contours. It depicts a woman, sculpted in some unknown rock. The convor hoots again and Ben eyes it once and then sighs. It is quite obvious what it wants Ben to do by now.

A hand reaches up to pat the hidden pocket in his jacket, happy to note that the dry nightbloomer is still inside. His precious notebook is in his left pocket and this is about the extent of the material possessions Ben currently holds.

One last look then.

One last, passing but all-encompassing glance to Obi-Wan, whose name Ben shares and one day he hopes to share his courage and loyalty as well. To Anakin, the hero Ben should have always looked up to, instead of the husk of a walking terror he will become. And to Padme, who Ben bears striking similarities with and is sad to find out so late, though he should be happy he’s found out at all. A queen and a legend, Ben makes a mental note to honor his grandmother for as long as he lives. And on that note, he should visit his distant relatives on Naboo as well.

They are three people, mortal and wounded. About to bring so much misery to the galaxy, but also so much hope.

Ben clamps his lips shut and breathes through his nose as he draws back towards the sunflower. He waits one second, two, absorbing as much of Alderaan as he can. And then his fingers grasp the slim statue and the Force sings along with the convor. The last thing he sees is the background of Alderaan fading to a white buzz, with only the shape of the sunflower burned behind his eyelids as his consciousness fades away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Shuura fruit](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Shuura)   
>  [Appenza Peak](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Appenza_Peak)   
>  [Glarus Lagoons](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Glarus_Lagoons)   
>  [Istabith Falls](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Istabith_Falls)   
>  [Morai](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Morai)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this has been a long time coming and now that i am officially free, i'm happy to present to you the final instalment of this story!
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

**THE WORLD BETWEEN WORLDS**

Rey opens her eyes to a sky full of stars. She blinks a few times, trying to get a grip on reality, a grip on herself and, most importantly, get used to the unnerving silence around her. Her body seems to cooperate when she tries to move her hands, so she rises to her feet in one fluid motion, heart in her throat and eyes glancing in all directions.

The universe surrounds her.

Sprawling in front of her, millions of galaxies twinkle, unmindful of the rumbling panic deep inside her chest. There is nothing here, Rey feels nothing. Only a great, emotionless void glares back at her, full of impersonal space and the cold light of trillions of stars, billions of parsecs away. Sound barely pervades this space and Rey has to consciously tap down on her rising panic attack as she studies the shimmering walkways.

She stands on one of them, the floor seemingly steady at her feet, transparisteel-like and wavering at times. Enough that it sends her anxiety spiking every time she catches it doing so. The path she walks on seems to extend forever and no matter how hard Rey tries, her eyes can never catch the end of it.

It flows like water, sometimes curving into half circles, other times sloping downwards at gut-clenching angles. Other walkways cut into Rey’s proclaimed pathway, some of them narrow straps that barely look able to hold a person walking on them. Others are large enough to land the Falcon on them and have space to maneuver around it.

Rey shifts in place, trying to get a feel of how this thing under her feet operates. Her gaze flits to the side and her stomach drops at the white spotted void below. She sees nothing, nothing but the unmerciful claws of death, should she fall like an idiot off the path.

The Force is strong in this place, Rey can detect it in the makeup of the pathways. It is the Force holding this place together, though it is barely amplified in here. Unlike on Ach-To, or on Exegol. The Force resides here, but it is not suffocating, not to the level that Rey expected it to be. Yet she can barely feel anything.

Blind fear is in short supply these days, but Rey is drowning in it as she takes a few experimental steps forward. How awful this is, not knowing where she is or what to do. The Force barely affords her a metaphorical glance as it continues to be a stone sentinel, now when Rey needs it the most.

Ten rashly approximated minutes down the path is when she arrives at a crossroads. It is also when a strange doorway pops into existence, two feet to her right. Rey yelps and skids back, unnervingly close to the edge as she watches the strangely shaped door and the foreign inscriptions around it shiver and dance.

Rey has never seen anything like this before and she does not wait for the thing to do anything else. She is too afraid that it will spit out a large creature that will want to kill her and running for her life on these thin strips of relative ground is not high on her list of priorities.

No, Rey’s mission is to find a way out of here. But first, she will find what the Force wants her to find in this place. Because if it decided to bring her here, to this foreign place, then it wants to show her something important.

She walks some more, for maybe five minutes or an hour. Rey cannot figure out how time flows in this place, but she has a funny feeling that maybe it doesn’t. There is nothing to suggest any life to this place besides her presence here. A million pathways intersect, as if bellowing Rey to follow them instead, but she steers her curiosity out of the way and continues down the path the Force dropped her on, trusting that if she landed on it, then it must be _for a reason_.

Another five interminable minutes down the line, Rey’s eyes narrow when she spots something foreign in the distance. A thing that disrupts the normal, bleak surroundings she’s gotten used to. The thing does a good job blending in with its environment, but Rey is nothing if not stubborn, so she moves closer and she realizes that it’s not a thing, it is a person standing there.

It is certainly shaped like one, with broad shoulders and reaching taller than Rey is. She is in the middle of discerning the figure’s long hair, almost long enough to reach its shoulders, when it turns around to face her.

Rey stops and her heart stops along with her. Suddenly, the universe falls away because Ben is there, in the distance, standing right in front of her. After so much time and distance, she found him.

_He is here._

The realization boosts her into action. Rey puts one foot in front of the other until she is running at full speed towards him. She lets her previous worries disperse in a metaphorical wind that does not seem to exist in this dimension because she cannot find it in herself to care that she should probably step carefully on the strange pathway. There is nothing in this cluster of galaxies, in this nexus of the Force, that will stop her from getting to him. She will goddamn fly is she needs to.

A world between worlds – that’s what the old Jedi called it. The Force guided both her and Ben here.

Rey does not dare to look away from him, so she sees the exact moment when he comes to the same realization she did. She catches Ben moving to take a step forward, but Rey pushes on the Force, instinctually at this point, and she all but literally flies over the last dozen steps and into his arms.

She winds her arms around his neck as Ben’s breath is knocked out of him. His huff tickles the stray hairs sticking out of her braid near her ear and Rey feels hot tears roll down her cheeks at the realization that this is real and that _he is so damn real_. So painfully real that she can feel Ben’s muscles shift under his dark brown jacket to get a better grip on her, holding her in the air and she winds her legs around his waist because the last thing Rey wants is to have to let go.

But she does unwind her grip just a tad, enough so that she can draw back and look at him. The same lovely eyes that hungrily roved over her face, one last time on Exegol, greet her back, from beyond death and resurrection. They are as full of tears as hers are, most certainly, and she reaches out to wipe the stray tear that escapes on his cheek.

Ben’s breath shudders at the touch and he looks at her like she’s the only star in his universe. It prompts Rey to share an incredulous giggle, so ridiculous in these incredible circumstances. She smiles because this moment is all she’s dreamed of for the last four months and it still feels like a dream, even when she continues lightly brushing his cheek.

Ben offers her a smile and returns her hopeful happiness with a grin of his own. His eyes twinkle, something at the very edges teasing her and Rey’s heart all but bursts with love. She still finds it in herself to feel a dram bit of indignation and she tightens her grip around his neck and reaches up to press her lips to his, if only to stop the incoming smirk from spreading over his face.

This kiss feels like a million things at once, but mostly, it feels like coming home and Rey has been waiting for this her whole life.

Ben’s hold on her tightens marginally, and he moves one steady hand to her back, twisting into her tattered tunic and he deepens the kiss, hungrily searching for more of her. Rey obliges, leaps for it, for him, and she combs a hand through his hair, still as soft as she remembers. Even after the bloody fight that was Exegol and everything leading up to it, Ben’s hair showed a staggering resilience that a small corner of her heart envies him for.

Rey cannot imagine what Ben must think of her, dressed in slightly singed clothes and probably smelling of smoke and death. The tentative braid she constructed with young Leia’s help was already falling apart spectacularly when Rey arrived here and if Ben’s hand keeps tugging at her hair like this, the disaster will be complete. She cannot find it in herself to care, though, not when it feels so damn good.

It’s Ben who breaks away first, muscles tense and shoulders drawn up as if he is ready to bolt or fight. Rey frowns and makes a small sound of protest that distracts him enough to rest his forehead against hers, but that is when sound comes back and with it, the distinct effort of someone clearing their throat somewhere behind them.

Ben delivers a melodramatic sigh and a roll of his eyes that make Rey giggle. She adjusts her grip on him and wiggles into a position where he can look over his shoulder, trying to spot the offending trespasser. Rey finds it in the form of a Togruta woman, standing a good distance away near a portal, one hand on her hip and a knowing smirk on her face.

At that point Ben turns around, taking Rey along with him and she holds on for dear life. She hears him inhale sharply and that is when she finally, reluctantly, let’s go of him slowly.

“Ashoka Tano?” Ben asks, uncertain once Rey’s feet are on the ground.

Rey studies the older woman. She is tall and dressed in a white, flowing robe that reaches the ground in soft waves. There is a tall wand in her hand and her eyes are the bluest color Rey’s ever seen. Ashoka’s smirk melts into a pleased smile that pulls at the edges of her wrinkled face, marked in white patterns Rey’s never seen before.

Fluttering wings cut the silence open. Rey follows the descent of a small bird as it flies to settle on one of Ashoka’s shoulders. There is an incongruous feeling regarding that bird that nags at Rey, but she cannot figure out what the issue is. The Force seems to heave and concentrate towards the small animal like a vortex sucked in the matter around it.

“Got it right on the first try.” Ashoka’s voice is loud and kind. It startles Rey out of her reverie. 

Next to her Ben shifts, hands clenching at his sides. It looks painful enough that Rey reaches out and takes the closest one in hers. For a second, it seems to help somewhat, though he still grits his teeth enough to crack his jaw.

“Relax, Ben!” The old woman waves a hand casually, as if trying to dispel whatever bad dream Ben is afflicted with. “You Skywalkers are too serious for your own good.”

“That bird,” Ben speaks as if he hadn’t heard any of Ashoka’s words. Rey snorts softly. Ashoka’s smile widens into a grin, “I saw it before.”

“On Alderaan, yes.”

Startled, Rey looks up at Ben, but his eyes remain stubbornly fixed on Ashoka. The Togruta woman jabs a thumb and the bird flaps her wings as if waving them hello.

“This is Morai. She is an extension of the Daughter and a good companion of mine.” Ashoka takes a few steps forward, trying to close the distance between them.

Rey squares her shoulders, trying her very best to look intimidating, disheveled as she is.

“It guided me to the statue of the Daughter, yes.”

Rey blinks in surprise. “You saw the statue of the Daughter, too?” Her questions surprises Ben enough to glance down at her. “I saw it on Coruscant, in Alderaan’s embassy there.”

“So that’s where you went when you were on Coruscant?” Ben turns a little in Rey’s direction, interest piqued. “The masters told me you were there many years ago before I arrived.”

Rey raises a brow. “Well, it’s only been a few days for me. I can’t believe you were able to go to Alderaan, though!”

“A small mercy after I landed on Tatooine.” Ben snorts in disdain.

Ashoka’s sudden bark of laughter cuts into their conversation and they turn to see the older woman clutch at her stomach.

“Sorry, that whole adventure might be my fault actually.”

At this admission, Ben settles into a scathing glare that makes Rey roll her eyes. Still, she would like to know what exactly Ashoka means by that.

“When Leia died, she offered her last bit of strength to save Ben’s life. It was lucky that Exegol is a large entry point in the world between worlds,” Ashoka extends an all-encompassing arm, gesturing to the wide infinity around them, “so extracting you was easy. The problem was that the Force was still reeling because of the sudden imbalance the death of so many people brought, Sith or no Sith.”

Ashoka purses her lips, but the corner of her lips still twitches with unrestrained amusement.

“It flung Ben pretty far away.”

Ben scoffs and disentangles their hands so he can cross his arms over his chest, reproach imminent in his expression. Rey pats his upper arm in silent consolation, though she cannot help but blame the Force for leaving her alone for so many months.

Ashoka shrugs, Ben’s frustration flying over her head. “Far enough away that it took quite some time for me to locate him. The plan was to bring Rey in only when you were already here, but I took a little too long to find you and by that point, the Force was already working to restore the equilibrium. That’s why it threw Rey out there, into the past and not in here.”

Rey hopes that the incredulous expression on her face is telling enough. “But it brought me nowhere near where Ben was, did it?”

She half addresses this question to Ben and he grunts in response. “I woke up on Kashyyyk, in 4 ABY.”

“What!” Rey yelps and Ashoka laughs again.

“Man, that was some miss!” She shakes her head, as if this is just one of the Force’s more eccentric quirks. “You and Rey got there around the same time.”

“Ben was floating in space for three months?” Rey points a finger at the subject, mouth open in shock.

Ben’s gaze flits from her to Ashoka and he asks with a heavy amount of dangerous sarcasm. “ _I_ was floating in _space_ for three _months_?”

Ashoka’s free hand comes to rest on her hip again. She barely looks the part of the mystical priestess or whatever she wishes to convey with her appearance. Right now, she looks like a long-suffering person, trying to right a galaxy-sized mishap that holds the Skywalkers smack in the middle of it. _Again_. 

“Technically,” Morai makes a sound between a hoot and a squeal, “you were floating _in the Force_ for three whole months, but yes.” She scowls, nose scrunching as her eyes glaze over with memories. “Despite what you may think, getting to the more immediate past is harder than going the distance. As far as fifty years ago, everything is set into stone forever and it’s more easily accessible. But the close past, that part is still malleable somewhat. Harder not to screw up and it needs a longer time getting there because of that.”

“The Force is like using the holonet!” Ashoka amends, when both Rey and Ben continue throwing her distracted glares that melt halfway into confusion. “Once you already have the cache for older sites you searched before, it’s easier to get there. But when you access new sites, it needs some time to load properly!”

“Oh.” Rey breathes out, the only pertinent response she can offer because now it’s finally starting to make sense.

“So, this is why on my last jump, I was there for almost two weeks.” Rey is surprised to hear that he got to stay for so long, but she is also incredibly happy to hear that. He must have so many stories about Alderaan and she cannot wait to hear all of them.

Ben on the other hand, has a deeper glower on his face now. “How did we finally get here?”

Morai flies away and Ashoka tracks it for a while, until it is obvious where the convor intends to rest. Then she sighs, tired.

Ben takes a step back in surprise when he gets a face full of mystical bird trying to nest on his head. Rey grins at the peculiar image.

“The statue that appeared to both of you was me trying to lure the Force to bring you here. But I had only one, so I had to,” one of Ashoka’s white painted eyebrows twitches visibly while she gestures vaguely with a hand, ” _improvise_ the bridges to this place. With things that hold enough of an emotional weight to you to tie them into the Force. But it didn’t work right because it did the same thing as the first time, so I tried again and again and it finally worked!”

“And what if it didn’t?” Rey finds herself reluctantly asking.

“I would have tried again.” Ashoka answers simply and Ben rubs at his temples. Rey can guess that he already has a headache, if the familiar feeling coming from the bond’s direction is anything to go by. It’s more diffuse than usual, but maybe the bond still needs more time to heal. “But it’s fortunate that you are here!”

Ashoka claps her hands once and the sound dies away before it even properly reaches Rey’s ears.

“We can finally get you home.”

Rey’s heart beats faster at her words and her mind struggles sluggishly to realize that this is really happening. They are finally allowed to go back home.

Ben’s fingers slip through hers and Rey looks at him with an excited grin.

“How do we get out of here then?” Ben asks, as restless as she is to finally close the chapter on this impromptu misadventure.

“Right the way Rey came from. You will land on Lothal and from there on, it’s your problem.”

These words are more than Rey could ever hope to hear. But there is still something hammering away in the back of her mind.

“Wait, what about the timelines we visited?”

Ashoka only lifts an eyebrow, taken aback by the inquiry. She’s still amused though, Rey notes with confusion.

“What about them? They continue on. Your presence there didn’t make that much of an impact, which is great because otherwise the future would be hell. Well, more than it already is.” Ashoka concedes with a slight shake of the head.

Ben grimaces at this, Rey finds out with a side-glance. She quietly resolves to grill him about it later.

Ashoka winks. “How do you think the statue got from the embassy to Alderaan in the first place?”

The woman’s words actually make sense and even though Rey wants to be completely sure that nothing changed, and they won’t arrive in a place that doesn’t resemble their home anymore, she lets the subject go. She will trust Ashoka, if only because the woman seems to genuinely want to help them.

“Great. Then let’s get out of here.” Ben nods and Morai hoots again.

The convor flies away from Ben, much to his relief. It comes to rest on a portal doorway that has materialized from thin air, because it certainly wasn’t there before now. 

Ben studiously overcomes his confusion, but Rey is left reeling on the sidelines on what the hell just happened. Ashoka gestures to the moving circle and the void darkness is replaced by a field of tall grass and a blue sky – Lothal’s surface.

Rey grips Ben’s hand tight as they advance towards it, praying to the Maker that this is not a dream and the portal won’t deposit her on Lothal alone.

Ben’s steps falter when they reach Ashoka and the woman clamps a hand on Ben’s forearm, so Rey continues on, offering them the privacy to exchange some last few words. She still hears what they say though, because the distance between Ashoka and the portal is too small and Rey won’t go in without Ben by her side. 

“Thank you, Ashoka.”

“You have nothing to thank me for, kid.” The Togruta shakes her head, a sad expression passing over her face. “Thank your mother when you see her.” She pats Ben’s chest twice before she steps back. “Enjoy the rest of your life!”

“Ben.”

Ben seems rooted in place by Ashoka’s words, so Rey calls out to him. She’s seen Leia’s ghost and she cannot wait for Ben to finally get to see his mother again, even in death. Leia has defied death and the Force to offer her son a second chance. Rey hopes that it is a step in the right direction of mending their broken relationship.

He nods, still in a trance and she lifts her hand, thrusting it in his direction. This seems to have the effect she intended because Ben huffs out a chuckle when he sees it. Words spoken what feels like a lifetime ago pop to the surface, floating between them along with an unspoken promise that shivers through the bond. It blooms on the bridge between their mind, the bright light of a star, beautiful but staggering in its intensity.

Ben’s large hand dwarfs Rey’s smaller one and envelops it with its sturdy presence. Rey smiles, tremulous and deliriously happy and she tugs him after her.

Home.

They tumble through the portal and it feels like she’s been doused with cold water.

Lothal deposits them on the surface, above the ruins of the Jedi Temple and smack in the middle of a deserted field. Rey digs her foot into the sigil on the ground, scuffing the ground with the tip of it with curiosity, but nothing happens. The world continues on, without any noticeable change around them.

Next to her, Ben exhales, as if he’s been holding his breath all this time, fearing for the worst. He seems to take in the world around them, wonder dancing in his eyes.

Then his gaze lands on the decrepit X-Wing Rey used as a vehicle in the months after Exegol and his face falls. Along with it though, irritation and incredulity rises.

“Is that it?” His question is lost to the wind, so he tries again. “You had to have a death wish to ride in that!” He points an accusing finger to the poor machine.

Rey opens her mouth to answer but stops short. She can neither affirm nor deny that she rode that old ship purely because there wasn’t anything else to use. True, the Resistance was in need of all the ships they could hold onto, but Rey doubts that anyone would deny her if she asked for another ship. To be completely honest, there may or maybe not have been an instance when she hoped that the old X-Wing would give up and explode, just so Rey could have an excuse and give up along with it.

Presently, Rey looks at Ben, hoping to convey what she really means. “Maybe I did have one.” Looking into the distance, Rey desperately breathes in Lothal’s warm air. “For a few months there.”

Ben tugs her closer and his arm comes to rest over her shoulders. Rey closes her eyes and inhales deeply. It smells like nature, fresh and pure and it smells like Ben and like home. She rests her head on his chest and bathes in this peaceful moment. What will be the first of many to come, she will make sure of that.

A thought occurs to her then, a promise that completely went over her head since leaving long-ago Coruscant. Rey remembers her conversation with master Yoda. She can recall every single detail with painful accuracy, and there, just in the middle of it, Yoda asked if she loved Ben and she answered ‘yes’ with every bit of her shriveled heart. Rey made a promise then, one that pops into her brain in what is maybe their first moment of peace after a lifetime of war and pain.

“I love you, Ben.” The words come out in a whisper, but Rey isn’t sure of the reason. A small part of her is still simply afraid – afraid of loss – or maybe just afraid of not ruining this moment.

Her worries are dissuaded when Ben chuckles, and it’s a strange feeling to feel the motion, pressed so close to him. He presses a kiss on top of her unruly hair and Rey’s heart skips a beat at both the sound and the gentle gesture.

“I know.” His other hand snakes around her middle and he mutters into her hair with the utmost confidence. “I love you too.”

Rey closes her eyes, inhales and exhales. “I wish we could stay like this forever.”

There’s something with this galaxy, or maybe it’s just their lot of luck in life, but Rey will probably never exactly pinpoint the real culprit behind it anyway. On the other hand, Ben would have no qualms shouting and cursing the culprit all day long.

As is on cue with Rey’s declaration, two of the starfighter’s wings fall apart along with a good chunk of the hull, leaving the sorry X-Wing in an awful state of disarray. They both look on, uncomprehending at first before Ben snorts and lifts his head towards the heavens, an almighty scowl on his lips and he addresses what Rey guesses must be the invisible, intangible entity of the Force with the driest tone she’s ever heard come out of his mouth.

“She wasn’t speaking literally!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [World Between Worlds](https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/World_Between_Worlds)


End file.
